HEROES 


PRO 


i  5 


GIFT  OF 


HEROES  OF  PROGRESS 

STORIES  OF  SUCCESSFUL  AMERICANS 
BY  EVA  MARCH  TAPPAN,  Ph.D. 

Author  of 

"  THE  FARMER  AND  HIS  FRIENDS,"    "  DIGGERS  IN  THE  EARTH  " 

"MAKERS  OF  MANY  THINGS,"    "  TRAVELERS  AND  TRAVELING" 

"OUR  EUROPEAN  ANCESTORS,"    "AMERICAN  HERO  STORIES  " 

"AN   ELEMENTARY    HISTORY   OF    OUR   COUNTRY,"     ETC. 


13) 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

BOSTON   .   NEW  YORK    •   CHICAGO        SAN   FRANCISCO 
ifttoetsibf  press  Cambri&gc 


COPYRIGHT,    Uy2l,    UN'    KVA   MARCH   TAl'l'AN 
ALL    KIGIITS    KKSEKVKL) 


vTtjr  lAitmsibr  £>i  r  ss 

CAMBRIDGE  •  MASSACHUSETTS 
I'RINTKD  IN  THR    U.   S.  A. 


fi 
A. 
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PREFACE 

THIS  book  is  planned  to  give  as  general  a  view  of 
recent  American  achievement  as  possible  without 
becoming  of  unwieldy  size.  Invention,  discovery 
and  exploration,  art,  music,  philanthropy,  kindness 
to  animals,  industrial  success,  aviation,  pure  and 
applied  science,  are  all  represented.  To  select  the 
names  of  the  men  and  women  of  achievement  has 
not  been  easy.  Some  thirty  have  been  carefully 
chosen  with  the  aim  of  introducing  those  whose 
work  reached  its  consummation  within  the  last 
half-century;  but  in  a  few  instances  men  have 
been  included  whose  inventions  have  been  greatly 
developed  in  recent  years,  even  though  by  other 
hands. 

In  making  the  selection  a  number  of  "children's 
librarians"  have  been  consulted,  with  the  wish  to 
include  as  many  as  possible  of  the  people  about 
whom  children  come  to  them  for  information. 
There  is  seldom  difficulty  in  finding  biographies 
of  authors,  soldiers,  or  statesmen.  For  this  reason 
such  names  have  been  omitted  from  this  book. 

The  qualities  which  led  these  men  and  women  to 
success  have  been  brought  well  to  the  front;  and 
while  financial  rewards  have  often  been  mentioned, 
success  is  reckoned  in  value  to  the  world,  rather 
than  in  money  acquired  by  the  individual. 

As  far  as  feasible  these   biographies   have   been 

460859 


iv  PREFACE 

submitted  to  some  member  of  the  family  of  each 
person  introduced.  For  the  kindness  and  helpful 
ness  of  these  critics  1  am  glad  to  take  this  oppor 
tunity  to  express  my  deep  sense  of  obligation. 

In  writing  these  sketches  it  was  necessary,  of 
course,  to  depend  for  facts  chiefly  upon  volumes  of 
biography  or  of  letters.  To  the  authors  of  such 
volumes  and  to  the  editors  of  the  many  autobi 
ographies  and  reminiscences  which  I  have  used, 
I  am  also  sincerely  grateful. 

EVA  MARCH  TAPPAN 


CONTENTS 

JOHN  JAMES  AUDUEON,  Lover  and  Student  of  Birds  i 

MARK  HOPKINS,  President  of  Williams  College  ,  .  .  .11 
CYRUS  H.  McCoRMiCK,  Inventor  of  the  Reaper  .  .  .  20 

CHARLES  GOODYEAR,  a  Man  who  Persevered        .  .       .     30 

WILLIAM  T.  G.MORTON,  Master  of  Pain 39 

ELIAS  HOWE,  Inventor  of  the  Sewing-Machine       .       .       .       .47 

MARIA  MITCHELL,  Astronomer  and  Teacher 54 

HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON,  Printer  and  Publisher  .  .  .61 
CYRUS  W.  FIELD,  the  Manwho  Laid  the  Atlantic  Cable .  .  .71 

,.  JEAN  Louis  RODOLPHE  AGASSIZ,  Beloved  Teacher  of  Science     .     70 
JULIA  WARD  HOWE,  Author  of  the  "Battle  Hymn  of  the  Repub 
lic"    .       .     or 

GEORGE  THORXDIKE  ANGELL,  Knight  of  Kindness  to  Animals    97 

-LUTHER  BURBANK,  Plant-Breeder 106 

ALEXANDER  GRAHAM  BELL,  Inventor  of  the  Telephone  .  .115 
JOHN  WANAMAKER,  Founder  of  the  Department  Store  .  .  .122 
FRANCES  E.  WILLARD,  Temperance  Reformer 132 

«  CLARA  BARTON,  Founder  of  the  American  Red  Cross  .      .       .140 

•  BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON,  Founder  of  Tuskegee  Institute  .      .  147 

•  AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS,  Greatest  American  Sculptor    .       .157 

JAMES  JEROME  HILL,  Builder  of  Railroads 168 

JOHN  MUIR,  the  Man  who  Loved  Trees  and  Mountains    .       .170 
THEODORE  THOMAS,  the  Man  who  Taught  us  to  Love  Music     .  189 

THOMAS  ALVA  EDISON,  Inventor         199 

EDWIN  AUSTIN  ABBEY,  Illustrator  and  Painter     ....  208 
SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY,  Inventor  of  the  First  Heavier-than- 

Air  Flying  Machine 217 

ANDREW  CARNEGIE,  the  Man  who  Would  not  Die  Rich  .  .228 
WILLIAM  CRAWFORD  GORGAS,  who  Made  the  Canal  Zone 

Safe 237 

ROBERT  E.  PEARY,  Discoverer  of  the  North  Pole  ....  245 

•  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GOETHALS,  Builder  of  the  Panama  Canal  254 


HEROES  OF  PROGRESS 


JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON 

LOVER  AND  STUDENT  OF  BIRDS 
1780-1851 

1827-1830,  published  the  Birds  of  America 
EARLY  in  the  seventeen-seventies,  Commodore 
Audubon,  of  the  French  navy,  came  to  Louisiana 
on  business.  He  married,  then  returned  to  France, 
where  his  son  John  James  Audubon  was  born. 
Commodore  Audubon  had  bought  a  plantation  on 
St.  Domingo,  which  soon  needed  his  attention;  so 
the  little  family  sailed  for  the  island.  In  a  slave 
insurrection  the  mother  perished,  but  the  baby  was 
saved.  Father  and  son  went  back  to  France. 

The  father  married  a  second  time,  then  came  to 
America  to  join  Lafayette  and  help  the  colonists  to 
win  the  Revolutionary  War.  The  child  was  left  in 
the  care  of  his  stepmother,  who  idolized  him.  She 
filled  his  pockets  with  money,  she  bought  him  the 
finest  clothes,  she  gave  him  full  permission  to  buy 
whatever  he  chose  in  all  the  candy  stores  of  the 
place,  and  she  often  told  him  that  he  was  the  hand 
somest  child  in  France.  As  for  school,  he  went 
when  he  liked,  but  when  he  did  not  like,  he  wandered 
off  into  the  fields  and  woods. 

When   the   father   returned,    he   found   his  son's 


a;  J OHN  JAMES  AUDUBON 

room  full  of  odd  stones,  birds'  nests,  curious  licherib, 
and  pressed  flowers,  and  he  was  pleased;  but  when 
he  learned  that  the  boy  had  done  nothing  but  make 
collections,  he  marched  him  off  to  the  place  where 
he  himself  was  stationed,  and  saw  to  it  that  he  did 
some  real  studying.  Nevertheless,  the  boy  loved 
nature,  and  especially  birds,  as  much  as  ever,  and 
somehow  he  found  time  to  make  drawings  of  some 
two  hundred  of  the  birds  of  France.  "All  bad 
enough,"  he  said  afterwards,  "yet  I  felt  pleased 
with  them." 

While  Commodore  Audubon  was  in  America,  he 
had  bought  an  estate  near  Philadelphia;  and  before 
many  years  had  passed,  he  sent  his  son  across  the 
ocean  to  manage  it.  The  young  man  had  a  de 
lightful  time  with  hunting,  fishing,  drawing,  and 
music.  He  was  strong  and  handsome  and  grace 
ful,  always  dressed  with  the  utmost  care,  and  with 
such  winning,  friendly  manners  that  his  neighbors 
were  all  devoted  to  him.  His  rooms  were  museums 
of  eggs,  and  paintings,  chiefly  of  birds,  for  they  still 
held  the  first  place  in  his  interest.  He  must  have 
been  rather  a  queer  manager  of  an  estate,  for  he 
was  so  little  of  a  business  man  that  he  once  put 
eight  thousand  dollars  into  an  envelope  and  mailed 
it  without  remembering  to  put  on  a  wafer. 

It  was  hardly  a  wise  move  for  such  a  man  to  open 
a  store;  but  he  and  his  bride  of  one  day  and  a  friend 
who  was  to  be  his  partner  went  through  the  woods 
and  down  the  Ohio  River  to  Louisville,  Kentucky. 
There  and  elsewhere  they  "kept  store";  that  is,  the 


LOVER  AND  STUDENT  OF  BIRDS        3 

partner  managed  the  store,  while  Audubon  had  a 
glorious  time  roaming  through  the  forests,  collect 
ing  and  painting  birds. 

This  rather  peculiar  fashion  of  carrying  on  a 
mercantile  life  lasted  for  some  ten  years.  He  and 
his  wife's  brother  attempted  trade  in  Henderson, 
Kentucky;  they  built  a  sawmill;  and  they  bought 
a  steamer.  Nothing  succeeded,  the  money  left  to 
Audubon  by  his  father  soon  vanished,  and  he 
ceased  to  be  a  business  man.  As  he  said,  "  I  parted 
with  every  particle  of  property  I  had  to  my  cred 
itors,  keeping  only  the  clothes  I  wore  on  that  day, 
my  original  drawings,  and  my  gun,  and  without  a 
dollar  in  my  pocket  walked  to  Louisville  alone." 

He  was  so  sad  that,  as  he  went  through  the 
woods,  even  his  precious  birds  looked  to  him  like 
enemies.  But  his  wife  and  children  he  loved  with 
his  whole  heart,  and  for  their  sake  he  set  bravely  to 
work  drawing  crayon  portraits.  He  took  a  position 
in  a  museum  in  Cincinnati,  but  his  salary  was  not 
paid.  He  was  longing  to  publish  his  bird  draw 
ings,  but  first  he  must  add  more  of  the  Southern 
and  Western  birds.  So  he  went  South,  paying  his 
way  by  drawing  portraits  and  teaching  drawing. 
He  paid  for  a  pair  of  shoes  by  sketching  the  shoe 
maker,  and  for  his  passage  on  a  boat  by  painting 
the  walls  of  the  cabin. 

His  wife  believed  firmly  in  her  husband's  genius, 
and  she  was  as  eager  as  he  to  have  his  work  pub 
lished.  Moreover,  she  had  the  business  ability  which 
he  lacked.  She  had  earned  a  goodly  sum  teaching, 


4  JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON 

he  added  to  it  by  giving  dancing  lessons,  and  in 
1826  the  way  was  clear  for  him  to* go  to  England. 

England  was  entirely  new  to  him,  and  he  was 
rather  aghast  at  spending  five  hours  at  dinner.     He 
was  never  awkward,  but  he  was  sensitive,  and  so 
modest  that  he  was  always  grateful  to  people  who 
made  him  feel  at  home.     The  object  of  his  journey 
was  to  gain  subscribers  to  his  proposed  Birds  of 
America.     His  drawings  were  put  on  exhibition ;  and 
now  came  a  hard  time  for  the  artist.     A  word  of 
appreciation  made  him  blush  with  joy,  but  when  he 
overheard  some  one  in  a  crowd  say,  "I  have  seen 
them;  save  your  shilling  for  better  use,"  he  dared 
not  raise  his  head,  but  wished  himself  back  in  the 
American   forests  with   his  birds.      Once  when   he 
was  standing  just  outside  the  cloor  of  his  exhibition, 
a  stranger  asked  him  if  those  pictures  were  worth 
seeing.     The  artist  said  "No"  most  emphatically, 
and  the  man   turned  aside.      He  asked  the  same 
question  of  some  one  else,   and   this  second   man 
must  have  said  "Yes,"  for  he  came  back  and  went 
in. 

After  a  time  in  England,  Audubon  went  to  Scot 
land,  and  there  he  was  as  eager  to  see  Sir  Walter 
Scott  as  to  make  friends  for  his  books,  and  one 
night  he  went  to  sleep  with  his  favorite  of  Scott's 
novels  under  his  pillow,  hoping  for  a  dream  of  its 
author.  At  last  the  happy  time  arrived  for  an 
interview.  A  friend  came  into  his  painting  room 
and  said,  "Put  on  your  coat  and  hat  and  come 
with  me  to  Sir  Walter  Scott ;  he  wishes  to  see  you 


LOVER  AND  STUDENT  OF  BIRDS        5 

"  "I  really  believe  my  coat  and  hat  came  to 
me  instead  of  my  going  to  them,"  Audubon  wrote 
in  his  journal.  Sir  Walter  was  very  cordial,  and 
the  naturalist  went  away  from  the  call  as  sincere 
a  worshiper  of  the  novelist  as  in  the  days  of  his 
early  manhood. 

Occasionally  Audubon  had  a  disagreeable  inter 
view.      One  man  of  high  rank,   not  a  subscriber, 


STORMY  PETREL 

Drawn  from  natur?  by  J.  J.  Audubon  and  printed  in  color?  in  Birds  of 
America.    The  original  illustration  is  165  x  12\  inches. 

actually  sent  for  him  to  call,  and  then  told  him 
scornfully  that  his  birds  were  all  alike,  and  the 
work  was  a  swindle.  Audubon  made  no  reply,  but 
bowed  and  left  the  house.  He  wrote  quietly  in  his 
journal,  "  It  is  not  the  custom  to  send  for  a  gentle 
man  to  abuse  him  in  one's  own  home."  He  was 
elected  a  member  of  various  scientific  societies,  and 
met  manv  men  of  great  learning.  He  met  one 


6  JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON 

banker,  who  was  most  courteous,  but  who  declared 
that  he  knew  nothing  of  ornithology  except  that 
large  feathers  were  called  quills,  and  were  useful  in 
posting  ledgers.  All  this  he  noted  down  in  a 
journal,  which  is  really  one  long  homesick  letter  to 
his  wife  in  America.  He  tells  her  of  every  dis 
couragement  that  he  meets,  and  he  writes  just  as 
frankly,  "Now,  my  Lucy,  ...  I  may  feel  proud  of 
two  things,  that  I  am  considered  the  first  ornitho 
logical  painter  and  the  first  practical  naturalist  of 
America;  may  God  grant  me  life  to  accomplish  my 
serious  and  gigantic  work." 

Audubon  now  went  to  France  in  the  hope  of  in 
creasing  the  number  of  names  on  his  list  of  sub 
scribers.  He  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Cuvier 
often,  and  the  great  scientist  declared  to  the 
Academy  of  Sciences  that  the  Birds  of  America  was 
the  most  magnificent  monument  which  had  yet 
been  erected  to  ornithology.  Nevertheless,  there 
were  fewer  in  France  than  in  England  who  could 
afford  to  spend  a  thousand  dollars  on  a  set  of  books, 
and  not  many  new  subscribers  were  gained. 

The  months  in  Europe  were  by  no  means  a  time 
of  idleness.  It  was  Audubon's  business  to  meet  as 
many  people  —  possible  subscribers  —  as  he  could; 
to  secure  engravers,  and  also  painters  who  could 
color  his  engravings  properly;  and  to  attend  to  the 
whole  business  of  publishing  his  plates.  Business 
was  always  troublesome  to  him,  and  he  wrote  to  his 
wife,  "It  is  difficult  for  a  man  like  me  to  see  that  I 
am  neither  cheating  nor  being  cheated."  Then, 


LOVER  AXD  STUDENT  OF  BIRDS        7 

too,  he  had  many  orders  for  pictures,  and  he  often 
painted  twenty  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  he  was  happy  when  at  last  he  had 
arranged  his  business  affairs  and  was  free  to  sail  for 
home  in  the  packet-ship  which  he  chose  because  of 
her  name,  Columbia. 

A  year  later  Audubon  and  his  wife  went  to  Edin 
burgh.  Here  Audubon  set  to  work  to  write  his 
Ornithological  Biography,  which  is  really  charming 
accounts  of  the  lives  and  habits  of  his  birds,  and 
where  he  had  found  them.  "Your  father  is  up  and 
at  work  before  dawn,  and  writes  without  ceasing  all 
day,"  Mrs.  Audubon  wrote  to  the  sons. 

To  bring  out  the  Birds  took  not  only  hard  work, 
but  a  vast  amount  of  perseverance  and  courage.  It 
was  planned  to  be  issued  in  eighty-seven  parts  of 
five  plates  each,  giving  1065  figures  of  birds.  The 
text  came  out  separately,  in  five  large  octavo  vol 
umes.  Only  a  few  numbers  were  to  be  brought 
out  each  year,  and  the  publication  was  to  extend 
over  a  number  of  years.  It  is  not  strange  that  even 
after  subscribing,  some  fifty  persons  withdrew  their 
names. 

The  Audubons  returned  to  America,  and  then 
they  literally  followed  the  real  living  birds.  The 
whole  family  journeyed  together  in  most  delightful 
fashion.  Where  there  were  birds  that  the  naturalist 
wished  to  draw,  they  stopped;  where  there  were 
none,  they  went  on.  His  charming  manner  made 
friends  for  them  everywhere. 

Audubon   had    long  wished   to   make  a   trip   to 


JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON 

Labrador  to  study  the  Northern  birds,  and  in  1833 
he,  his  youngest  son,  "Johnny,"  and  four  other 
young  men,  chartered  a  schooner  and  set  sail.  One 

°^    them    wrote 
of    their  leader, 
"You  had   only 
to  meet  him  to 
love    him,     and 
when    you    had 
conversed    with 
him    for   a    mo 
ment,  you  looked 
upon  him  as  an 
old  friend,  rather 
than  a  stranger." 
In     1840    the 
family         made 
their     home    in 
Auclubon    Park, 
as     it     is     now 
called,  within  the 
present  limits  of 
New  York  City. 
The  sons  had  married,  and  here  eleven  of  the  four 
teen  grandchildren  were  born.  Audubon  must  have 
been    a    most    lovable    grandfather,   for    he   never 
objected    to    as    many   of    the   children    as    might 
choose  making  use  of  his  painting  house  as  a  play 
room. 

A  smaller-sized  edition  of   the  Birds  was  to  be 
prepared,  and  Audubon  had  also  planned  Quadru- 


REPUBLICAN  CLIFF  SWALLOW 

Drawn  from  nature  by  J.  J.  Audubon  and  printed 
in  colors  in  Birds  of  A  merica.  The  original  illustration 
is  16%  x  12^4  inches. 


LOVER  AND  STUDENT  OF  BIRDS        9 

peds  of  North  America.  Feather  and  sons  worked 
together  on  what  they  called  "our  book."  The 
father  sketched,  one  son,  using  the  camera  obscura, 
reduced  the  drawings  to  the  required  size,  and  the 
other  son  attended  to  printing  and  publishing. 
Audubon  was  very  happy  in  his  youngest  son's  suc 
cess  in  painting.  "Ah,  Johnny,"  he  would  say, 
"no  need  for  the  old  man  to  paint  any  more  when 
you  can  do  work  like  that." 

To  the  last  day  of  his  life  he  was  the  same  gentle, 
lovable  person  that  he  had  always  been.  He  loved 
to  wander  along  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  River. 
"The  love  of  animals  develops  the  better  side  of  all 
natures,"  he  said,  and  he  loved  all  animals,  but 
especially  birds.  Birds  have  been  hunted  for  their 
flesh,  their  plumage,  and  even  for  the  amusement 
of  trying  to  hit  them.  There  is  a  story  which  pic 
tures  a  man  throwing  open  his  blinds  in  the  morning 
and  exclaiming,  "Beautiful  day!  Let's  go  and  kill 
some  birds!"  To  prevent  this  destruction  of  bird 
life  the  Audubon  Society  has  been  formed,  rightly 
named  for  the  man  who  did  more  than  any  other 
person  to  interest  people  in  birds  and  their  ways. 
President  Roosevelt  was  deeply  interested  in  saving 
the  birds,  and  set  apart  fifty-three  different  areas 
of  land  as  "bird  reservations."  These  reservations 
are  located  in  many  parts  of  the  United  States, 
along  the  ocean  coast,  in  Nebraska  and  South 
Dakota,  in  Oregon,  California,  and  on  the  Hawaiian 
Islands.  No  one  is  allowed  to  enter  them  who  will 
harm  or  disturb  the  birds,  and  to  some  of  them  all 


lo  JOHN  JAMES  AUDUBON 

entrance  is  forbidden.  Birds  are  quick-witted,  and 
they  soon  understand  where  they  are  safe.  It  is  a 
pity  they  cannot  understand  that  their  safety  is  due 
to  Audubon,  friend  of  their  fathers. 


MARK  HOPKINS 

PRESIDENT  OF  WILLIAMS  COLLEGE 

1802-1887 
1836,  became  President  of  Williams  College 

IF  Mark  Hopkins's  family  had  known  that  he  was 
to  become  a  famous  college  president,  they  would 
surely  have  taken  notes  of  his  sayings  and  doings. 
As  it  is,  only  two  stories  have  come  down  to  us 
of  his  early  days.  In  one  tale  he  entered  school 
at  the  age  of  four,  book  in  hand.  "And  where 
can  you  read?"  the  teacher  asked;  and  the  little 
fellow  gravely  replied,  "Just  where  you  please,  sir," 
which  proved  to  be  correct.  The  other  event  oc 
curred  when  he  himself  was  teaching,  not  so  many 
years  later.  One  of  his  pupils  treated  some  young 
birds  cruelly,  whereupon  the  president-to-be  boxed 
his  ears  soundly. 

Teaching  and  studying  by  turns,  he  entered 
Williams  College  as  a  sophomore.  The  follow 
ing  year  he  wrote  a  prize  oration  on  the  rather 
tremendous  subject,  "Modern  Chemistry — Reve 
lation  Confirmed  by  its  Discoveries."  His  vale 
dictory,  a  year  later,  was  on  the  even  more  over 
powering  theme  for  an  inexperienced  youth  of 
twenty-two,  "The  Formation  of  a  Practical  rather 
than  a  Speculative  Character  by  Literary  Men." 

Only  one  college  prank  is  recorded  of  him,  and 
that  was  somewhat  scholarly.  He  presented  an 


12  MARK  HOPKINS 

essay,  half  of  which  was  original  and  the  other  half 
copied  from  a  distinguished  Scotch  author.  He 
mischievously  put  his  own  half  in  quotations/  but 
gave  none  to  the  other  author.  Either  the  student's 
work  was  remarkably  good,  or  else  the  young  pro 
fessor  was  not  very  well  up  in  the  subject,  for  he 
praised  the  original  part  and  was  savagely  critical 
of  the  writings  of  the  learned  Scotchman.  Mark 
Hopkins  was  very  gentle  with  the  professor,  for  he 
told  the  secret  to  only  one  friend,  and  for  half  a 
century  the  friend  kept  his  promise  not  to  reveal  it. 
Three  years  later  Hopkins  himself  became  a  tutor 
in  the  college;  but  there  is  no  record  that  he  was 
ever  caught  in  the  same  —  or  any  other  —  way. 

After  taking  his  master's  degree,  he  studied  med 
icine,  and  was  on  the  point  of  going  to  New  York 
to  practice,  when,  unexpectedly  to  himself,  he  was 
asked  to  become  Professor  of  Mental  and  Moral 
Philosophy  and  Rhetoric  at  Williams.  In  these 
days  no  one  would  be  invited  to  teach  a  subject 
unless  he  had  made  special  preparation  in  that  line ; 
but  at  that  time,  if  an  educated  man  had  shown 
that  he  could  teach  one  subject,  he  was  expected  to 
be  able  to  teach  another  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Then,  too,  this  young  physician  had  shown  sincere 
interest  in  the  branches  which  he  was  asked  to 
teach.  One  point  of  preparation,  however,  could 
not  be  passed  over;  there  was  a  general  feeling  that 
one  who  was  to  instruct  young  men  ought  to  have  a 
theological  education;  therefore  the  professor- to-be 
packed  up  his  medical  books  and  for  three  years  he 


PRESIDENT  OF  WILLIAMS  COLLEGE     13 

studied  theology  and  kindred  subjects.  He  was 
now  licensed  to  preach,  he  married,  and  he  took  his 
place  as  a  member  of  the  college  faculty. 

Three  years  later,  in  1836,  the  president  resigned. 
The  trustees  spoke  of  Professor  Hopkins  as  his  suc 
cessor,  but  decided  that  he  was  too  young.  Just 
at  the  critical  moment  —  and  probably  after  care 
ful  planning  —  a  letter  was  presented  to  the  Board 
from  the  class  graduating  that  year.  It  thanked 
the  trustees  most  suggestively  for  the  great  privi 
lege  of  having  had  Professor  Hopkins  as  their  in 
structor.  This  turned  the  scale.  "If  the  boys 
want  him,"  declared  one  of  the  trustees,  'Met  them 
have  him";  and  they  had  him. 

In  1836  the  president  of  a  college  was  expected  to 
have  a  much  closer  connection  with  the  students 
than  would  be  required  uto  bow  in  one  company 
and  bow  out  another."  He  must  act  as  parent  and 
guardian  to  every  boy,  and  be  to  each  one  a  personal 
friend  and  adviser.  He  must  represent  the  dignity 
of  the  college,  be  equal  to  all  emergencies  and  all 
difficulties.  Besides  this,  he  was  expected  to  do  an 
amount  of  teaching  that  would  whiten  the  hair  of  a 
twentieth-century  professor. 

One  of  the  prevailing  notions  of  the  time  was  that 
a  man  of  intellect  should  be  quite  superior  to  the 
whims  of  the  body,  and  that  it  was  indeed  hardly  in 
good  taste  for  a  scholar  to  pay  much  attention  to 
his  food  or  his  health.  But  President  Hopkins  was 
also  Doctor  Hopkins,  and  his  first  teaching  to  the 
seniors  consisted  of  lessons  in  anatomy,  and  physi- 


14  MARK  HOPKINS 

ology,  and  from  these  he  developed  the  study  of  the 
mind. 

To  teach  physiology  he  needed  a  manikin,  but 
one  would  cost  six  hundred  dollars,  and  he  did  not 
feel  that  the  college  could  afford  to  spend  that 
amount.  So  he  mortgaged  his  own  salary  for  six 
months  and  gave  his  note  for  the  "little  man."  To 
pay  for  his  pasteboard  treasure  he  gave  lectures  on 
physiology  in  Stockbridge  and  elsewhere. 

The  lectures  were  a  great  success.  "There  never 
was  anything  that  took  so  well,"  one  friend  wrote 
him.  Another  said:  "Dr.  Hopkins  has  given  a 
fine  blow  to  our  vanity.  \Yhenever  I  see  a  fine 
countenance  and  a  graceful  person,  I  shall  only 
think  the  possessor  has  a  particularly  well-disposed 
set  of  muscles  under  his  command."  Some  months 
later  the  trustees  took  over  the  manikin  and  can 
celed  the  note. 

To  the  entering  freshmen  of  each  year  President 
Hopkins  taught  the  laws  of  health.  He  advised 
them  to  saw  their  own  wood,  to  learn  to  enjoy  fine 
prospects,  and  to  tramp  over  the  hills  in  quest  of 
minerals  and  flowers.  He  also  taught  metaphysics 
and  ethics  and  rhetoric.  He  corrected  composi 
tions  and  criticized  declamations.  He  was  pastor 
of  the  college  church  and  preached  almost  every 
Sunday.  Saturday  forenoons  he  taught  the  senior 
class  the  Assembly's  "Shorter  Catechism"  for  half 
an  hour;  and  he  made  it  so  unbelievably  interesting 
that  more  than  one  class  asked  to  have  the  time 
lengthened  to  an  hour  and  a  half. 


w    < 

>  I 
<  I 


16  MARK  HOPKINS 

Besides  all  this  teaching  he  was  writing,  deliver 
ing  important  addresses  and  baccalaureate  sermons. 
He  not  only  taught  the  students  how  to  grow 
mentally,  but  he  himself  was  growing,  and  they 
saw  it.  They  respected  and  reverenced  him.  In 
his  classes  there  was  absolute  freedom  of  discussion. 
As  long  as  a  boy  was  in  earnest  and  was  trying  to 
express  a  real  thought,  the  President  would  listen 
attentively;  but  if  he  was  only  talking  to  hear  his 
own  voice,  the  President  would  turn  the  laugh  on 
him  effectively,  but  so  good-naturedly  that  his  feel 
ings  did  not  suffer  any  serious  damage.  In  the  cate 
chism  class  he  was  once  talking  of  the  Fifth  Com 
mandment,  and  he  said  that  a  school,  being  in  the 
place  of  a  parent,  was  entitled  to  the  same  obedience. 
One  bright  but  rather  restive  boy  objected  to  this 
at  some  length.  When  just  the  right  moment 
came,  President  Hopkins  raised  a  storm  of  applause 
by  saying  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  "Hence  we  see 
that  a  father  who  has  an  unruly  son  whom  he 
knows  not  what  else  to  do  with  is  sure  to  send  him 
to  Williams  College." 

Dr.  Hopkins  was  equally  wise  in  what  is  still 
spoken  of  as  the  "rebellion  of  1868."  It  seemed 
that  some  few  students  were  frequently  absent 
from  their  classes,  and  this  interfered  with  the  work. 
Now  Dr.  Hopkins  did  not  believe  in  strict  rules  and 
penalties  or  in  treating  all  students  alike.  "vSome 
one  must  be  at  the  foot  of  the  class,"  he  often  said; 
and  he  thought  that  patience  and  kindness  and  the 
college  influence  would  do  more  to  make  boys 


PRESIDENT  OF  WILLIAMS  COLLEGE     17 

manly  than  any  rigid  laws  and  penalties.  Most  of 
the  faculty  took  the  opposite  position.  They  be 
lieved  that  the  only  way  to  lessen  these  absences 
was  to  treat  offenders  with  severity. 

At  the  faculty  meeting  it  was  decreed  that  every 
absence  should  be  marked  zero,  but  if  attendance 
had  been  impossible,  a  professor  might,  if  he  chose, 
allow  the  work  to  be  made  up.  The  wording  of  this 
rule  was  made  unnecessarily  annoying,  and  the 
students  were  indignant.  Then,  too,  they  felt  that 
" impossible"  was  a  rather  strong  word,  and  that 
the  new  rule  put  it  into  the  hands  of  any  profes 
sor  with  a  grudge  to  lower  a  student's  standing 
seriously.  They  requested  —  almost  demanded  - 
that  this  new  rule  be  annulled.  When  this  was 
refused,  they  left  the  college.  The  faculty,  perhaps 
a  little  too  promptly,  sent  out  circulars  to  the 
parents  and  the  newspapers  explaining  the  condition 
of  things.  Dr.  Hopkins  was  in  Ohio.  It  would 
have  been  much  wiser  not  to  make  any  new  rules 
during  his  absence;  but  the  rule  had  been  made, 
and  the  burden  of  making  peace  rested  upon  him. 
What  would  he  do? 

He  reached  home  Saturday  night,  and  preached 
in  the  chapel  as  usual.  On  Monday,  President, 
faculty,  and  students  met.  He  made  it  clear  that 
all  students  were  still  under  college  rule,  and  that  if 
any  wished  to  withdraw  from  college,  they  must 
return  to  their  work  and  then  ask  for  letters  of 
dismissal,  which  would  be  granted.  The  faculty 
wish  the  best  government  possible,  he  declared,  and 


i8  MARK  HOPKINS 

if  the  rule  in  hand  is  not  the  best  rule  possible,  it 
can  be  changed.  When  the  four  o'clock  classes 
met  that  afternoon,  the  students  returned,  though 
many  answered  the  roll-call  as  "Present,  under 
protest."  "No  student  is  in  this  college  under 
protest,'"  declared  the  President  emphatically,  and 
at  the  next  roll-call  there  was  no  more  'under 
protest';  the  tact  of  the  President  had  brought  the 
rebellion  to  an  end.  After  the  storm  had  blown 
over,  the  wording  of  the  rule  was  changed. 

President  Hopkins  was  the  author  of  several 
books.  The  most  famous  of  these  is  The  Law  of 
Love  and  Lorce  as  a  Law.  Another  eminent  scholar 
wrote  a  review  of  it,  and  with  a  touch  of  what  the 
students  at  Williams  wrathfully  looked  upon  as 
something  like  self-conceit,  declared  that  Dr.  Hop- 
kins's  reading  seemed  to  have  been  limited  to  rather 
commonplace  works.  Dr.  Hopkins  quietly  and 
courteously  turned  the  tables  by  saying:  "While  I 
acknowledge  fully  the  want  of  reading  referred  to  - 
and  regret  it  -  -  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  on 
this  subject  he  has  presented  no  point  that  I  had 
not  seen,  and  has  raised  no  objection  that  I  had  not 
considered." 

President  Hopkins  had  many  invitations  to  be 
come  pastor  of  prominent  churches  and  professor 
in  different  theological  seminaries;  but  he  always 
declined,  saying,  "  I  dwell  among  mine  own  people." 
And  the  young  men  whom  he  taught  were  literally 
his  "own  people."  In  his  classes  there  was  always 
the  frankest  discussion,  and  he  never  attempted  to 


PRESIDENT  OF  WILLIAMS  COLLEGE     19 

force  his  own  views  upon  the  students;  but  never 
theless  the  stamp  of  his  mind  was  upon  them.  "All 
Williams  men  have  a  family  resemblance,"  was  de 
clared  many  a  time ;  and  one  graduate  after  another 
has  ended  his  praises  of  the  great  teacher  with, 
"Best  of  all,  he  taught  me  to  think." 


CYRUS  H.  McCORMIGK 

INVENTOR  OF  THE  REAPER 
1809-1884 

1840,  the  first  practical  reaper  was  offered  for  sale 

THE  workshop  on  the  McCormick  farm  in  Virginia 
was  a  log  house  of  one  big  room.  Here  were  two 
forges,  an  anvil,  a  work-bench,  and  the  various 
tools  used  in  repairing  or  making  the  implements 
used  on  the  farm.  These  were  rude,  slow-working 
implements,  for  the  sod  was  turned  with  a  plough 
share  of  cast  iron;  grass  was  mowed  with  a  scythe; 
grain  was  cut  with  a  cradle  and  threshed  with  a 
flail. 

In  this  workshop  the  little  Cyrus  McCormick 
played  and  watched  his  father  do  all  sorts  of  inter 
esting  things,  working  in  wood  and  iron.  One  of 
the  most  wearisome  parts  of  the  year's  work  was 
harvesting  the  grain;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
thoughts  of  the  elder  McCormick,  a  man  of  inven 
tive  ability,  turned  upon  the  possibility  of  making 
a  machine  to  harvest  it  for  him. 

He  produced  one  in  1816.  It  would  not  work, 
and  the  neighbors  laughed  at  it.  Perhaps  even  the 
horses  were  amused,  for  they  found  themselves 
expected  not  to  pull  it,  but  to  push.  After  fifteen 
years  more  of  work,  he  succeeded  in  making  it  reap 
fairly  well,  but  it  left  the  grain  in  as  bad  a  tangle 
as  if  the  witches  had  been  at  work  on  it.  Several 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  REAPER  21 

other  inventors  had  made  machines  that  would  do 
as  well  as  this.  He  could  not  see  how  to  improve 
upon  them,  and  at  length  he  gave  up  trying. 

While  the  father  was  working  and  thinking  and 
the  neighbors  were  joking  about  his  reaper,  the  boy 
Cyrus  was  growing  up.  He  became  a  tall,  strong, 
rather  dignified  young  man,  who  led  the  singing  in 
the  church.  He  had  studied  surveying  and  had 
intended  to  be  a  surveyor,  but  he  could  not  make 
up  his  mind  to  give  up  the  reaper. 

Now  when  grain  was  straight  and  firm,  his 
father's  machine  would  answer  the  purpose  very 
well ;  so  what  the  son  had  to  do  first  was  to  invent  a 
way  to  cut  the  stalks  when  they  were  tangled.  His 
plan  seems  simple  enough  now,  but  it  took  brains 
to  think  it  out.  He  merely  put  at  the  end  of  the 
knife  a  curved  arm  to  separate  the  grain  to  be  cut 
from  the  grain  to  be  left  standing.  The  knife  he 
made  to  move  backward  and  forward,  so  as  not  to 
miss  any  of  the  grain. 

This  was  not  all  by  any  means,  for  some  way 
must  be  contrived  so  that  after  the  curved  arm  had 
separated  the  stalks,  they  would  stand  up  until 
they  were  cut.  This  he  managed  by  putting  a  row 
of  fingers  at  the  edge  of  the  blade.  To  lift  up  the 
grain  that  had  fallen  on  the  ground,  he  made  a 
revolving  reel.  To  catch  the  grain  as  it  fell,  he 
made  a  platform;  and  instead  of  amazing  the 
horses  by  making  them  push  the  machine,  he  ar 
ranged  it  so  it  could  be  pulled.  Finally,  he  built 
the  whole  machine  upon  a  big  driving  wheel;  that 


22'  CYRUS  H.  McCORMICK 

is,  a  wheel  which  receives  the  power  and  communi 
cates  it  to  the  other  wheels  of  the  machinery. 

The  affair  was  clumsy.  Would  it  reap?  Cyrus 
and  his  father  and  mother  and  brothers  and  sisters 
all  went  to  the  wheat-field  and  stood  watching  in 
the  wildest  excitement.  They  were  sure  that  "  Cy's 
machine"  would  reap  —  and  yet,  would  it?  It 
creaked  and  grumbled,  then  started  and  set  to 
work.  It  cut  the  straight  wheat  and  it  cut  the 
tangled  wheat.  There  was  a  family  rejoicing,  and 
Cyrus  arranged  to  give  a  public  exhibition  to  the 
neighbors  who  had  laughed  at  his  father's  efforts. 

Not  far  away  was  a  six-acre  field  of  oats.  To 
reap  it  would  have  taken  six  men  with  scythes  a 
whole  afternoon.  Cyrus  and  two  horses  and  the 
reaper  did  the  work  in  the  same  time.  A  year  later 
one  hundred  or  more  people  came  together  to  see 
the  machine  perform.  It  performed,  but  not  quite 
as  the  inventor  had  expected,  for  it  slipped  and  slid 
and  stumbled  and  jolted  and  behaved  as  badly  as 
if  imps  of  mischief  were  in  every  wheel.  The  field 
was  rough  and  hilly,  and  no  reasonable  being  could 
expect  the  machine  to  do  its  work  well  in  such  a 
place. 

It  was  a  rather  crestfallen  inventor  who  stood 
beside  his  horses  that  summer  day;  but  a  moment 
later  a  voice  said:  "Pull  down  the  fence,  young 
man,  and  cross  over  into  my  field  of  wheat.  I'll 
give  you  a  fair  chance."  This  field  was  level,  the 
machine  worked  well,  and  before  sunset  six  acres 
had  been  reaped.  A  young  girl  who  watched  the 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  REAPER          23 

machine  being  drawn  up  the  road  said  many  years 
later,  "I  thought  it  was  a  right  smart  curious  sort 
of  a  thing,  but  that  it  would  n't  come  to  much." 
The  people  who  had  laughed  at  the  inventor  had  to 


Courtesy  International  Harvester  Company  of  America 

McCORMICK'S  FIRST  SUCCESSFUL  REAPER 

This  was  invented  in  1831  and  patented  in  1834.  The  machine  embodied  the 
following  essential  principles  of  the  modern  reaper  —  vibrating  sickle-edged  blade, 
fingers  to  hold  the  grain,  reel,  divider  and  platform  to  receive  the  grain. 

admit  now  that  he  had  succeeded.  But  of  all  the 
praises  that  were  given  to  him,  there  was  not  one 
that  pleased  him  so  much  as  his  father's  quiet,  "I 
am  proud  to  have  a  son  do  what  I  could  not." 

In  these  days  we  are  used  to  new  inventions,  and 
we  get  a  little  out  of  patience  if  some  one  does  not 
produce  machines  for  doing  everything  quickly 
and  easily.  In  the  boyhood  of  Cyrus  AlcCormick, 
most  work,  especially  farm  work,  was  done  by  hand 


24  CYRUS  H.  McCORMICK 

with  an  accompaniment  of  backache.  And  as  for 
the  implements  —  why,  many  people  were  still  us 
ing  wooden  ploughs  and  thinking  that  iron  ones 
were  a  very  doubtful  innovation.  How  was  a 
young  man  to  persuade  the  farmers  to  buy,  not  a 
simple  thing  like  an  iron  plough,  but  an  expensive 
machine  that  might  fail  them  after  a  season's  use? 
He  had  read  enough  about  inventors  to  know  that, 
because  they  were  not  good  business  men,  they 
often  failed  to  get  their  proper  rewards.  He  made 
up  his  mind  to  work  and  wait,  but  to  hold  on  to 
that  reaper  until  he  had  won  appreciation  and 
purchasers. 

He  had  no  money  for  advertising,  and  he  set  to 
work  to  make  it  by  farming.  For  nine  years  he 
struggled.  He  gave  an  exhibition  of  the  reaper  at 
work,  but  the  effect  was  much  like  that  of  the 
famous  sermon  to  the  fishes, 

"Much  delighted  were  they, 
But  preferred  the  old  way." 

Who  knew  how  long  the  machine  would  keep  in 
order?  Money  was  scarce  and  labor  was  cheap. 
The  farmers  cheered  when  they  saw  it  cut  two 
acres  of  wheat  in  an  hour,  but  they  did  not  purchase. 
Nine  years  was  a  long  time  to  wait  for  a  customer, 
but  in  1840  a  man  came  forward  with  fifty  dollars 
and  said  that  he  wanted  to  buy  a  reaper.  A  few 
weeks  later  another  and  then  a  third  came  for  the 
same  purpose.  One  machine  was  sold;  then  the 
honest  inventor  said  frankly  that  he  had  an  idea 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  REAPER  25 

for  improving  his  reaper,  and  he  refused  to  sell  any 
more  until  he  had  given  it  a  trial.  His  heart  was  in 
that  machine,  and  he  would  rather  wait  than  sell 
one  that  was  not  as  perfect  as  he  could  make  it. 
There  was  one  fault,  which  he  was  sure  he  could 
overcome,  namely,  when  grain  was  damp  the  reaper 
cut  unevenly  and  sometimes  would  not  cut  at  all. 
He  thought  and  experimented,  and  then  simply 
made  the  edge  of  the  cutting  blade  more  sharply 
saw- toothed,  and  it  worked. 

Three  machines  were  now  at  work  in  the  Virginia 
grain-fields.  The  sales  increased  slowly,  but  so 
surely  that  McCormick  set  up  a  manufactory  on 
the  home  farm.  Everything  might  have  been  ex 
pected  to  go  on  smoothly  now  that  there  was  a 
factory  to  make  reapers,  and  customers  to  buy 
them;  but  there  was  another  great  difficulty  to  be 
overcome,  namely,  how  were  these  reapers  to  be 
delivered?  Railroads  were  few,  and  if  a  farmer  in 
Illinois  or  Wisconsin,  for  instance,  sent  an  order  for 
a  reaper,  the  machine  had  to  be  "  carried  in  a  wagon 
to  Scottsville,  then  by  canal  to  Richmond,  re- 
shipped  down  the  James  River  to  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  and  around  Florida  to  New  Orleans,  trans 
ferred  here  to  a  river  boat  that  went  up  the  Miss 
issippi  and  Ohio  Rivers  to  Cincinnati,  and  from 
Cincinnati  in  various  directions  to  the  expectant 
farmer."  This  method  of  delivery  was  so  slow  and 
uncertain  that  more  than  once  a  reaper  reached  its 
purchaser  long  after  his  grain  had  all  been  harvested 
by  hand. 


26  CYRUS  H.  McCORMICK 

Something  must  be  done.  McCormick  set  out 
into  the  world  for  the  first  time  and  went  West. 
He  saw  prairies,  flat,  limitless,  and  of  rich  soil.  He 
saw  wide  fields  of  grain  without  any  one  to  gather 
it  in.  Here  was  the  place  for  the  reaper.  Virginia 
as  the  home  of  grain  began  to  look  smalt  to  him. 
His  reaper  would  be  most  at  ease  on  these  wide 
prairies,  but  how  could  prairies  and  reapers  be 
brought  together?  There  is  an  old  proverb,  "If 
the  mountain  will  not  come  to  Mahomet,  then 
Mahomet  must  go  to  the  mountain."  The  prairies 
would  not  come  to  the  reapers,  so  the  inventor  set 
out  to  find  a  way  to  carry  the  reapers  to  the  prairies. 
The  best  way  was  not  to  carry  them  at  all,  but  to 
manufacture  them  at  some  central  point  as  near  as 
possible.  Where  should  that  point  be?  Wise  man 
that  he  was,  he  decided  upon  a  muddy  little  city 
named  Chicago.  It  was  a  cheerless  little  place, 
without  gas  or  sewers  or  pavements;  but  more  grain 
passed  through  it  than  through  any  other  city  in  the 
United  States.  Here  McCormick  built  his  factory 
in  1847. 

His  inventive  ability  and  his  perseverance  had 
brought  him  thus  far,  and  he  acted  on  the  principle 
of  all  good  salesmen;  that  is,  he  looked  at  things 
from  the  buyer's  point  of  view.  He  gave  with 
every  machine  a  written  guarantee,  that  if  it  did 
not  prove  capable  of  reaping  one  and  a  half  acres  of 
grain  an  hour,  he  would  refund  the  money  paid. 
He  trusted  farmers  and  new  settlers  freely,  and 
rarely  lost  by  them.  He  advertised  much  by  having 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  REAPER          27 

public  trials,  free  to  everybody,  between  his  reaper 
and  any  others  that  had  been  invented,  for  there 
were  scores  of  them  now. 

But  a  patent  lasted  for  only  fourteen  years,  and 
the  time  was  up.  He  had  spent  a  large  part  of 
this  time  not  in  making  money  from  the  reaper, 
but  in  improving  it,  an  especially  difficult  thing  to 
do,  because  he  had  only  the  short  harvest  season 


Courtesy  International  Harvester  Company  of  America 

MODERN  GRAIN  HARVESTING  MACHINES,  COMBINING  A  BINDER  AND 
A  REAPER 

They  are  drawn  by  a  gasoline  tractor. 

for  testing  any  new  arrangement.  Many  factories 
were  making  and  selling  his  reaper  and  paying  him 
no  royalty.  Would  Congress  extend  his  patent,  as 
had  been  done  in  several  other  cases?  Of  course 
the  manufacturers  united  against  him,  and  Con- 


28  CYRUS  H.  McCORMICK 

gress  refused.  Then  McCormick  set  to  work  to 
take  care  of  himself.  He  made  his  reaper  into  a 
" reaper  and  binder,"  and  he  swept  through  Europe 
with  his  field  tests  and  his  victories. 

He  fought  many  lawsuits,  for  he  would  never  give 
up  when  he  was  sure  that  he  was  in  the  right.  One, 
which  was  not  connected  with  the  reaper,  he  fought 
for  twenty-three  years.  Through  the  fault  of  a 
railroad  the  trunks  of  his  family  and  himself  were 
destroyed,  and  he  sued  the  road  for  damages.  From 
court  to  court  the  case  went,  and  at  last  to  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States.  The  verdict 
was  that  the  road  must  pay  the  value  of  the  trunks 
and  also  the  interest  on  the  money  for  twenty-three 
years.  "What  makes  you  fight  so  hard  over  a 
small  matter?"  asked  a  friend.  "My  conscience," 
replied  McCormick.  "Some  one  must  stand  up 
for  fair  dealing." 

He  was  always  a  hard  worker.  "Work  —  that  is 
what  life  is  for,"  he  said.  When  he  had  a  problem 
to  solve  he  worked  on  it  until  it  was  solved,  quite 
as  if  there  were  no  such  things  as  ordinary  business 
hours  in  the  world.  Everything  that  he  had  to  do 
must  be  done  thoroughly  and  accurately.  "Don't 
misspell  words,"  he  said  to  a  younger  brother. 
"Carry  a  dictionary  as  I  do." 

He  was  just  as  decided  in  his  politics  and  his  re 
ligious  faith.  "I  am  in  politics,"  he  said,  "because 
I  have  to  be  in  order  to  defend  the  principles  that  I 
stand  by."  He  liked  New  York  because  it  had 
"regular  and  good  Presbyterian  preaching,"  He 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  REAPER          29 

liked  the  flowers  that  used  to  grow  in  his  mother's 
garden  in  Virginia;  and  his  devotion  to  her  and  to 
his  father  never  faltered.  When  his  father  died  he 
wrote  to  his  brother,  "Many  a  sore  cry  have  I  had 
as  I  have  gone  around  this  place  and  found  no 
father."  His  wife  was  his  trusted  business  adviser. 
When  Chicago  burned,  in  1871,  and  his  factory  was 
destroyed,  he  asked  her  counsel  whether  to  rebuild 
or  retire.  She  thought  of  saving  the  business  for 
their  sons  and  said  "Rebuild";  and  while  the  ashes 
were  still  warm,  he  gave  orders  to  put  up  a  larger 
factory  than  the  old  one  had  been. 

Before  long  there  was  more  wheat  coming  in  than 
the  old-style  mills  could  grind.  Steel  rollers  began 
to  take  the  place  of  stones.  Great  mills  were  built 
for  making  flour;  one  in  Minneapolis  is  so  large 
that  it  can  turn  out  fifteen  thousand  barrels  of 
flour  every  twenty-four  hours.  This  is  what  the 
McCormick  reaper  has  made  possible  in  helping  to 
feed  a  hungry  world. 


CHARLES  GOODYEAR 

A  MAN  WHO  PERSEVERED 
1800-1860 

1844,  first  patented  the  vulcanization  of  rubber 

IN  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century  rubber 
was  used  in  this  country  for  little  else  than  erasing 
pencil  marks.  People  were  beginning  to  be  inter 
ested  in  it,  however,  because  it  had  such  remarkable 
qualities.  It  was  elastic  and  it  was  waterproof;  it 
could  be  baked,  soaked  in  lye  or  oil  or  turpentine 
without  injury;  neither  mouse  nor  moth  would 
touch  it.  The  natives  of  the  lands  where  it  was 
produced  made  rough  clay  lasts,  dipped  them  into 
the  rubber  juice  many  times,  smoking  them  after 
each  dipping,  then  broke  up  the  lasts,  and  they  had 
waterproof  shoes.  Why  could  not  this  be  done  in 
the  United  States? 

People  went  wild  over  the  possibilities  of  rubber. 
It  cost  only  five  cents  a  pound,  and  a  pair  of  rub 
bers  —  gums,  or  galoshes,  they  were  called  —  would 
sell  for  two  or  three  dollars.  Here  was  a  chance 
to  make  a  fortune,  if  a  man  was  only  wide-awake 
enough  to  seize  the  opportunity  and  invest.  In 
1833  six  or  eight  factories  were  opened,  and  the 
manufacture  of  overshoes  and  wagon-covers,  over 
coats,  caps,  and  life-preservers  flourished. 

These  articles  were  sold  as  fast  as  they  could  be 
made;  but  when  warm  weather  came,  "they  were 


A  MAN  WHO  PERSEVERED  31 

returned  as  fast  as  their  purchasers  could  bring 
them  back.  This  rubber  had  one  great  fault;  it 
proved  to  be  hard  as  a  rock  in  the  winter  and  soft  as 
chewing  gum  in  the  summer;  and  the  overshoes 
made  in  the  factories  were  not  nearly  so  good  as 
the  clumsy  ones  made  by  the  natives  of  the  rubber 
countries.  A  pair  of  rubbers  left  by  the  fire  would 
quietly  melt  away  with  a  very,  very  bad  odor. 
The  only  way  to  use  such  articles  seemed  to  be  to 
make  one's  home  where  there  was  neither  heat  nor 
cold. 

Now  in  Connecticut  there  lived  a  man  who  was 
trying  to  solve  the  problem.  God  would  not  have 
put  into  the  world  a  substance  of  such  value  unless 
he  had  meant  men  to  find  out  how  to  use  it;  so  this 
Mr.  Goodyear  reasoned;  and  he  was  convinced 
that  the  deep  interest  which  he  felt  in  rubber  was  a 
proof  that  he  was  meant  to  be  the  one  to  find  out 
how  to  make  the  substance  of  use.  He  was  a  poor\ 
man,  he  had  failed  in  business,  and  he  had  a  wife/ 
and  seven  children.  He  knew  little  of  chemistry, 
and  had  not  so  very  much  more  than  the  average 
Yankee's  talent  for  " fixing  things"  and  improving 
them,  but  he  began  to  experiment  on  rubber.  He 
borrowed  money  and  made  hundreds  of  pairs  of 
overshoes,  very  good-looking  ones.  But  "Hand 
some  is  as  handsome  does,"  says  the  old  proverb; 
and  when  warm  weather  came,  the  shoes  settled 
down  into  soft  dough. 

Rubber  was  usually  dissolved  in  turpentine,  and 
turpentine  is  sticky.     Perhaps  the  trouble  was  here, 


32  CHARLES  GOODYEAR 

he  thought;  and  at  length  he  succeeded  in  getting 
some  rubber  sap  which  had  been  kept  liquid  by 
alcohol.  He  was  called  away,  and  while  he  was 
gone  his  man  Jerry  had  an  idea.  He  plastered  his 
overalls  with  the  nice  white  liquid,  and  was  soon 
wearing  a  fine  pair  of  handsome  white  waterproof 
overalls.  But  alas,  Jerry  sat  down  too  near  the 
fire,  and  when  the  inventor  returned  his  man  had 
to  be  carefully  cut  out  of  his  new  garment.  Evi 
dently  the  stickiness  was  not  in  the  turpentine,  but 
in  the  rubber  itself.  Was  there  any  way  of  getting 
rid  of  this  one  bad  quality? 

Goodyear  had  no  thought  of  giving  up.  He  tried 
mixing  rubber  with  all  sorts  of  substances,  with 
magnesium,  with  quicklime  and  water,  and  with 
nitric  acid.  In  trying  to  clean  a  piece  of  rubber 
cloth  he  had  used  nitric  acid,  and  had  found  that 
the  surface  of  the  rubber  lost  all  stickiness  wherever 
the  acid  had  touched  it.  He  now  made  thin  sheets 
of  rubber  and  worked  them  into  piano-covers,  car 
riage-tops,  even  overshoes;  and  all  these  were  far 
better  than  anything  of  the  kind  that  had  been 
made  before.  He  sold  licenses  to  use  his  process;  he 
began  to  have  a  good  income;  and  he  brought  his 
scattered  family  around  him  again. 

A  friend  who  had  worked  in  one  of  the  defunct 
rubber  factories  had  tried  combining  sulphur  with 
rubber  and  exposing  this  to  sunshine.  He  told 
Goodyear  of  his  experiments  and  showed  him  how 
this  process  took  away  the  stickiness  from  the  sur 
face  of  the  rubber.  Goodyear  had  borrowed  of 


A  MAN  WHO  PERSEVERED  33 

every  friend  who  would  lend  to  him,  because  he  was 
firmly  convinced  that  he  would  be  able  to  pay  his 
debts,  but  he  never  dreamed  of  making  any  unfair 
use  of  this  confidence.  "You  must  patent  your 
process,"  he  said,  and  this  was  done.  Later,  he 
bought  the  patent. 

Success  had  come  at  last;  that  could  not  be 
doubted,  for  the  Government  had  ordered  one 
hundred  and  fifty  mail-bags  of  him.  Now  people 
could  see  for  themselves.  He  manufactured  the 
bags  and  hung  them  where  every  one  would  have  a 
view.  This  was  in  the  early  spring  of  1838.  He 
was  away  for  a  month,  and  when  he  returned  there 
hung  the  handles  of  the  bags,  but  the  bags  them 
selves  were  melting  and  dropping  on  the  floor.  In 
stead  of  a  public  success  he  had  made  a  public 
failure.  He  could  harden  the  surface  of  the  rubber, 
but  under  this  surface  the  gum  was  in  warm  weather 
as  sticky  as  ever. 

Rubber  was  certainly  a  most  exasperating  sub 
stance.  To  be  able  to  cure  the  outside  perfectly, 
but  not  to  be  able  to  affect  it  below  the  surface 
would  have  tried  the  patience  of  Job.  It  did  try 
the  patience  of  Mr.  Goodyear,  but  he  kept  on. 
Sometimes  he  was  cold,  sometimes  he  was  hungry. 
His  friends,  and  at  last  even  his  wife,  urged  him  to 
give  up  the  quest.  He  loved  his  family  and  his 
friends,  but  he  never  ceased  to  believe  that  he  must 
keep  on,  that  he  was  the  one  man  chosen  to  discover 
the  secret  that  would  benefit  the  whole  world. 
When  one  process  failed,  he  tried  another,  and  he 


34  CHARLES  GOODYEAR 

was  never  sufficiently  discouraged  to  think  for  a 
moment  of  giving  up.  He  had  always  believed  that 
some  things  cannot  be  found  out  by  scientific  re 
search,  but  can  be  discovered  by  accident,  and  that 
the  man  who  is  most  persevering  will  be  the  dis 
coverer. 

He  was  right  in  this  case,  for  the  discovery  came 
when  he  was  far  from  expecting  it.  He  stood  before 
a  hot  stove  one  day  in  1839  with  a  piece  of  gum  and 
sulphur  in  his  hand,  talking  away  on  his  usual 
subject.  His  audience,  consisting  of  his  brother 
and  some  friends,  was  bored,  and  more  than  half 
indignant  with  him  for  keeping  on  in  this  foolish 
chase.  In  one  of  his  earnest  gestures  he  touched 
the  hot  stove  with  the  rubber.  Instead  of  melting, 
it  charred  like  leather,  but  around  the  charred  por 
tion  there  was  a  flexible  border  which  was  not 
charred,  and  was  perfectly  cured.  Then  how  he 
did  talk,  and  how  out  of  patience  his  hearers  be 
came!  They  had  seen  things  burned  before,  and 
there  was  generally  a  line  about  the  edge  of  the 
burned  part  of  anything  that  was  not  charred; 
charring  had  to  stop  somewhere.  They  did  not  see 
anything  in  this  to  make  a  man  so  excited ;  he  must 
be  half  crazy.  Perhaps  he  was,  half  crazy  with  joy. 
He  nailed  the  rubber  outside  the  door.  It  was  a 
very  cold  night,  but  in  the  morning  the  ring  about 
the  charred  spot  was  as  flexible  as  before. 

Now  he  experimented  in  good  earnest.  He  found 
that  this  rim  would  neither  soften  with  heat  nor 
stiffen  with  cold.  Rubber  certainly  was  a  myste- 


A  MAN  WHO  PERSEVERED 


35 


Conrtety  Goodyar  Tire  and  Rubber  Company 

GOODYEAR'S  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  VULCANIZATION  OF  RUBBER 

rious  substance.  When  combined  with  sulphur,  a 
little  heat  would  melt  it,  and  much  would  harden 
or  " vulcanize"  it.  The  great  discovery  had  been 
made,  but  only  a  man  who  had  been  trying  for 


36  CHARLES  GOODYEAR 

years  to  find  it  would  have  known  that  he  had  it 
at  last. 

Still,  even  this  was  only  a  beginning.  He  must 
find  out  just  how  much  sulphur  to  use,  what  degree 
of  heat  was  best,  when  and  for  how  long  the  heat 
must  be  applied,  and  by  what  means.  A  process 
that  failed  one  time  in  ten  would  be  of  no  use  com 
mercially.  He  went  at  his  experiments  without 
a  thought  of  anything  else.  He  boiled  the  rubber 
and  steamed  it  and  roasted  it.  He  baked  it  in 
heaps  of  sand  in  the  fields,  making  his  fires  of  sticks 
which  he  picked  up.  People  were  kind  to  him. 
The  shops  and  factories  allowed  him  to  use  their 
ovens  after  working  hours,  though  his  sticky  mix 
tures  were  a  great  bother.  The  workmen  grumbled 
and  laughed  at  the  messes,  but  they  did  not  refuse 
what  he  wanted.  His  neighbors  sent  in  food  for  the 
family  and  sometimes  paid  a  bill  or  two  for  him. 
One  man  who  was  almost  a  stranger  gave  him 
money  to  continue  his  experiments;  another  sent 
him  a  barrel  of  flour.  At  one  strenuous  time  he 
could  find  nothing  in  the  house  to  pawn  but  his  chil 
dren's  schoolbooks,  and  he  pawned  these.  In  the 
midst  of  his  troubles  he  received  a  generous  offer  from 
a  firm  in  Paris  for  the  use  of  his  nitric-acid  process; 
but,  starving  as  he  was,  he  was  too  honest  to  accept 
it.  The  process  is  valuable,  he  replied,  but  it  will 
soon  be  superseded  by  a  new  and  better  method. 

So  it  was  that  the  invention  of  vulcanized  rub 
ber  came,  like  so  many  other  inventions,  from  the 
anxious  struggles  and  privations  of  the  inventor  and 


A  MAN  WHO  PERSEVERED  37 

his  family.  The  result  of  Goodyear's  efforts  has 
been  well  summed  up  as  follows: 

"His  process  had  more  than  the  elasticity  of 
India  rubber,  while  it  was  divested  of  all  those 
properties  which  had  lessened  its  utility.  It  was 
still  India  rubber,  but  its  surfaces  would  not  adhere, 
nor  would  it  harden  at  any  degree  of  cold,  nor 
soften  at  any  degree  of  heat.  It  was  a  cloth  im 
pervious  to  water.  It  was  paper  that  would  not 
tear.  It  was  parchment  that  would  not  crease.  It 
was  leather  wrhich  neither  rain  nor  sun  would  in 
jure.  It  was  ebony  that  could  be  run  into  a  mould. 
It  was  ivory  that  could  be  worked  like  wax.  It 
was  wood  that  never  cracked,  shrunk,  nor  decayed. 
It  was  metal  that  could  be  wound  round  the  finger 
or  tied  into  a  knot,  and  which  preserved  its  elasticity 
almost  like  steel.  Trifling  variations  in  the  ingredi 
ents,  in  the  proportions,  and  in  the  heating,  made 
it  either  as  pliable  as  kid,  tougher  than  ox-hide,  as 
elastic  as  whalebone,  or  as  rigid  as  flint." 

For  this  invention  Goodyear  received  little  re 
ward  save  the  consciousness  that  the  world  would 
be  better  off  because  he  had  lived  in  it.  Some  of 
his  later  troubles  were  due  to  his  neglecting  to  take 
out  his  patents  promptly.  Indeed,  he  delayed  five 
years  before  taking  out,  in  1844,  a  patent  for  vul 
canized  rubber,  and  so  left  a  loophole  for  the«claims 
of  other  inventors.  He  once  said  that  a  patent 
amounts  chiefly  to  a  permission  from  the  Govern 
ment  to  fight  one's  own  battles;  and  he  had  plenty 
of  them  to  fight. 


38  CHARLES  GOODYEAR 

In  1852  came  his  great  test  case  for  infringement 
of  his  patent  in  the  United  States.  Daniel  Webster 
was  his  lawyer.  It  must  have  brought  down  the 
house  when  Webster  pictured  rubber  as  it  was 
before  Mr.  Goodyear  succeeded  in  vulcanizing  it. 
"I  had  some  experience  in  this  matter  myself,"  he 
said.  "A  friend  in  New  York  sent  me  a  very  fine 
cloak  of  India  rubber,  and  a  hat  of  the  same  ma 
terial.  I  did  not  succeed  very  well  with  them.  I 
took  the  cloak  one  day  and  set  it  out  in  the  cold. 
It  stood  very  well  by  itself.  I  surmounted  it  with 
the  hat,  and  many  persons  passing  by  supposed 
they  saw  standing  by  the  porch  the  Farmer  of 
Marshfield." 

Mr.  Webster  won  the  case  for  his  client. 


WILLIAM  T.  G.  MORTON 

MASTER  OF  PAIN 
1819-1868 

1846,  ether  first  used  in  a  surgical  operation 

IN  the  Medical  Library  which  stands  in  the  Fen 
way,  Boston,  there  is  a  famous  painting.  It  repre 
sents  a  young  man  leaning  back  in  an  operating- 
chair  and  apparently  unconscious.  Beside  him 
stands  an  older  man  who  is  evidently  performing 
some  operation  on  his  jaw.  Around  these  two  are 
grouped  a  number  of  other  men,  watching  intently, 
not  the  operator,  but  the  face  of  the  patient.  A 
little  to  one  side  stands  a  man  with  features  as 
clean-cut  as  those  of  a  cameo.  His  hands  are 
clasped  on  his  breast  as  if  he  was  under  some  severe 
mental  strain.  Back  of  this  group  and  vanishing 
into  the  shadow  are  rising  seats  occupied  by  young 
men,  some  serious,  some  smiling  a  little  mockingly, 
but  ail  watching  the  face  of  the  young  man  in  the 
chair.  This  is  the  picture,  and  back  of  it  is  a  story. 
The  man  with  his  hands  clasped  on  his  breast  is 
Dr.  William  T.  G.  Morton.  He  was  born  in  the 
little  hill  town  of  Charlton,  Massachusetts,  and,  so 
says  the  family  tradition,  he  wanted  to  study  med 
icine,  but  decided  to  become  a  dentist.  Dentistry 
as  a  real  profession  was  something  new,  and,  in  the 
country  at  any  rate,  it  was  hardly  more  of  a  science 
than  shoveling  snow.  It  consisted  chiefly  in  ex- 


40  WILLIAM  T.  G.  MORTON 

tracting  a  tooth  when  its  victim  could  not  bear  the 
pain  of  toothache  any  longer.  And  such  extract 
ing!  Sometimes  it  was  done  by  the  family  doctor, 
but  it  was  perfectly  lawful  for  the  barber  or  the 
blacksmith  or  any  wandering  quack  to  pull  a  tooth 
and  charge  a  fee  for  so  doing.  What  their  instru 
ments  were  and  their  skill  in  using  them  may  be 
imagined.  In  Baltimore  the  American  Association 
of  Dental  Surgery  provided  for  an  eighteen-months 
course  in  real  dental  study,  and  thither  Morton 
went.  At  the  close  of  his  course  he  opened  an 
office  in  Boston,  and  was  so  successful  that  as  early 
as  1844  his  practice  amounted  to  many  thousands 
of  dollars  a  year.  But  Morton  was  not  the  kind  of 
man  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  had  already  learned. 
He  must  keep  on  learning,  and,  busy  man  as  he 
was,  he  spent  much  time  experimenting  in  a  labora 
tory  and  then  in  studying  in  a  medical  school. 

The  most  advanced  dental  work  of  the  time  was 
the  making  of  artificial  teeth;  but  the  approved 
method  would  seem  crude  enough  to-day.  They 
were  fastened  with  a  soft  solder  to  a  gold  plate. 
After  a  little  the  solder  changed  color,  and  around 
the  top  of  every  tooth  a  black  line  was  formed. 
The  use  of  artificial  teeth  always  made  a  bad  taste 
in  the  mouth,  for  the  roots  of  the  natural  teeth 
were  not  extracted.  Dr.  Morton  worked  till  he 
succeeded  in  making  a  hard  solder,  but  it  could  not 
be  used  unless  old  roots  were  removed,  a  process  to 
which  people  would  not  submit;  and  even  when  the 
dentist  agreed  to  make  no  charge  unless  the  work 


MASTER  OF  PAIN  41 

was  a  success,  they  refused  to  undergo  the  pain. 
This  can  hardly  be  wondered  at,  for  the  use  of 
ether  was  unknown. 

The  sufferings  of  people  in  those  days  of  no 
anaesthetics  were  terrible.  If  the  hip  was  out  of 
joint,  for  instance,  the  muscles  soon  contracted,  and 
to  replace  it  one  rope  was  fastened  to  the  leg  and 
another  to  the  body  of  the  sufferer.  Each  rope  was 
drawn  over  a  pulley,  and  then  strong  men  pulled 
and  pulled  till  the  bone  could  be  pushed  back  into 
its  socket.  The  agonies  of  an  operation  with  the 
knife  can  be  imagined  from  the  fact  that  men  of 
muscle  had  to  be  at  hand  to  hold  the  patient  while 
it  took  place. 

Dr.  Morton's  mind  was  on  the  problem  of  pain. 
In  dental  work  brandy  and  opium  and  laudanum 
had  been  tried  and  had  deadened  suffering  to  some 
degree.  Nitrous  oxide,  or  " laughing  gas,"  would 
sometimes  serve,  but  its  use  was  not  fully  under 
stood,  its  effects  were  very  short,  and  they  were  al 
ways  doubtful,  for  sometimes  it  quieted  the  patient, 
and  sometimes  it  excited  him  so  that  the  work 
could  not  be  done.  In  any  case,  they  were  not 
lasting  enough  for  it  to  be  of  value  in  severe  oper 
ations.  Many  a  physician  had  pondered  over  this 
question  of  pain;  and  after  experimenting  had  con 
cluded  that  people  might  as  well  hope  to  fly  as  to 
escape  suffering.  Dr.  Morton  would  not  give  up 
the  quest.  "I  will  yet  banish  pain,"  he  declared. 
But  how? 

Of  course  in  his  dentistry  he  had  tried  everything 


42  WILLIAM  T.  G.  MORTON 

that  seemed  promising.  In  filling  a  sensitive  tooth 
one  day,  he  used  ether,  rubbing  it  on  the  outside  of 
the  jaw.  It  succeeded,  and  now  he  began  to  think 
about  ether.  This  was  not  unknown  by  any  means. 
Indeed,  it  was  so  well  known  that  people  sometimes 
breathed  in  a  little  to  amuse  themselves  by  expe 
riencing  the  queer,  half-conscious  feeling  that  it 
caused.  They  were  very  careful,  however,  not  to 
use  too  much,  for  there  was  a  general  belief  that 
this  would  cause  death.  Ether  mixed  with  air  was 
sometimes  given  to  children  with  whooping-cough 
to  relieve  the  spasms.  There  might  be  hope  in 
ether.  Dr.  Morton  was  aiming  at  saving  the  world 
from  pain,  and  he  forgot  all  about  his  own  advan 
tage.  He  put  his  business  into  the  hands  of  an 
assistant,  and  set  to  work. 

Now  when  people  took  ether  for  an  amusement, 
they  became  sleepy  and  not  fully  conscious  of  what 
was  going  on.  Would  a  larger  dose  make  them 
unconscious?  And  would  a  still  larger  one  result 
in  death?  It  is  no  wonder  that  people  did  not  come 
in  crowds  to  Dr.  Morton's  office  to  try  the  experi 
ment.  He  offered  bribes,  liberal  sums  of  money, 
but  no  one  cared  to  risk  his  life  to  carry  out  the 
whim  of  an  experimenter.  At  length  one  of  Dr. 
Morton's  assistants  agreed  to  try  it.  He  became 
unconscious,  then  suddenly  he  was  in  a  mad  fury 
and  ready  to  fight  everybody  around.  It  was 
found  out  afterwards  that  the  ether  was  not  pure; 
but  there  is  no  record  that  the  assistant  ever  offered 
to  try  again. 


MASTER  OF  PAIN  43 

There  was  only  one  person  whom  Dr.  Morton 
could  depend  upon  to  become  a  possible  victim, 
and  that  was  himself.  This  was  much  more  danger 
ous  for  him  than  for  any  one  else,  because  there  was 
a  possibility  of  his  taking  too  much  and  becoming 
so  nearly  unconscious  as  not  to  realize  when  the 
danger  point  was  reached.  It  is  no  wonder  that 
his  wife  objected;  but  he  was  determined  to  make 
the  trial.  He  shut  himself  up  in  a  room  and  began 
to  inhale  the  ether.  He  felt  numb;  he  could  not 
manage  his  fingers;  he  pinched  himself,  but  felt 
little  pain;  he  tried  to  rise,  but  could  not.  Then  he 
became  unconscious,  and  so  he  remained  for  seven 
or  eight  minutes. 

The  experiment  was  a  success.  He  had  proved 
that  a  man  could  take  ether  enough  to  make  him 
unconscious  and  not  be  harmed  by  it.  But  how 
would  it  be  in  severe  pain?  He  soon  found  out. 
A  man  came  to  have  a  tooth  extracted.  Dr. 
Morton  wet  his  handkerchief  in  ether  and  the  man 
quietly  breathed  it  in.  A  minute  or  two  later 
Dr.  Morton  asked,  "Are  you  ready?"  "Yes,  I  am 
ready,"  the  man  replied.  "Well,  the  tooth  is 
out,"  said  the  Doctor;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
man  shouted,  "Glory,  hallelujah!"  -for  he  had 
known  nothing  of  the  operation.  The  Doctor's  pa 
tients  began  to  be  less  fearful.  One  boy  had  so 
delightful  a  dream  when  under  ether  that  he  in 
sisted  upon  having  another  tooth  out  on  the  spot. 

Dr.  Morton  invited  scientists  to  his  office  to  see 
the  effect  of  the  anaesthetic.  In  1846,  he  went  to 


44  WILLIAM  T.  G.  MORTON 

Dr.  Warren,  senior  surgeon  of  the  Massachusetts 
General  Hospital,  and  asked  if  he  would  give  it  a 
public  trial.  Dr.  Warren  promised  that  he  would. 
A  young  man  with  a  tumor  on  his  jaw  was  to  be 
given  the  ether  and  the  tumor  was  to  be  removed. 
He  had  taken  ether  once  before  for  some  dental 
operation,  and  he  had  not  the  least  nervousness. 
This  could  hardly  be  said  of  Dr.  Morton.  He 
knew  that  if  there  should  be  any  fault  in  the  ap 
paratus  for  mixing  air  with  the  ether  and  carrying 
off  the  carbonic  acid  gas  exhaled  by  the  patient, 
he  might  be  held  responsible  for  a  death.  Mrs. 
Morton  knew  this,  too,  and  begged  him  to  give  up 
the  test.  He  would  not  yield,  and  they  worked  to 
gether  on  the  apparatus  through  the  night. 

The  operation  was  to  take  place  at  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Surgeons  and  medical  students  had 
assembled,  but  the  Doctor  did  not  appear.  The 
students  smiled  scornfully  and  made  idle  jokes 
about  the  man  with  the  ridiculous  claim  that  an 
operation  could  be  performed  without  any  suffering. 
At  a  quarter-past  ten,  Dr.  Warren  rose.  "As 
Dr.  Morton  has  not  arrived,"  he  said,  "I  presume 
he  is  otherwise  engaged."  He  was  engaged  —  in 
waiting  —  for  the  instrument-maker  had  delayed 
him.  Dr.  Warren  took  up  his  knife;  but  the  door 
opened,  and  the  young  dentist  walked  in.  The 
ether  was  given  and  the  operation  was  begun. 
This  is  the  moment  of  the  painting  in  the  Boston 
Medical  Library 

A  little  later,   the  operation  over,   Dr.  Warren 


MASTER  OF  PAIN 


45 


turned  to  the  students  and  said,  "Gentlemen,  this 
is  no  humbug." 

"How  much  pain  did  you  feel?"  the  patient  was 
asked,  and  he  replied,  "I  felt  none." 

There  was  no  lack  now  of  appreciation  of  the  dis 
covery.  One  of  the  London  papers  described  it, 


THE  ROOM  WHERE  THE  FIRST  PUBLIC  TRIAL  OF  ETHER  TOOK  PLACE 

This  shows  the  present  appearance  "of  the  room  in  the  Massachusetts  Genera! 
Hospital  where  Dr.  Warren  performed  the  operation  described  on  page  4^;  In 
the  foreground  are  seen  a  part  of  the  semicircular  rising  seats  which  were  occupied 
by  the  students.  The  glass  cases  against  the  wall  contain  various  surgical  instru 
ments,  and  at  the  ends  two  Egyptian  mummies.  The  inscription  below  the  window 
commemorates  Dr  Morton's  discovery,  and  concludes  with  these  words:  "Know 
ledge  of  this  discovery  spread  from  this  room  throughout  the  civilized  world,  and 
a  new  era  for  surgery  began.  ' 

under  the  heading,  "Good  news  from  America,"  as 
a  gift  "not  for  one  nation,  but  for  all  nations,  from 
generation  to  generation,  as  long  as  the  world  shall 


46  WILLIAM  T.  G.  MORTON 

last."  Four  or  five  European  countries  awarded 
prizes  or  medals  to  the  discoverer  But,  as  often 
happens,  others  began  to  lay  claim  to  the  glory. 
His  patent  was  broken  by  any  one  who  chose,  even 
the  Government  itself.  Dr.  Morton  had  given 
one  hundred  and  eighty-seven  thousand  dollars  to 
his  discovery,  and  he  was  now  a  poor  man.  The 
Massachusetts  General  Hospital  presented  him  with 
a  silver  casket  containing  one  thousand  dollars.  On 
the  casket  was  inscribed,  "He  has  become  poor  in  a 
cause  which  has  made  the  world  his  debtor."  The 
world  is  not  always  a  good  paymaster.  Again  and 
again  Dr.  Morton  tried  to  get  recompense  from  the 
Government,  but  to  no  avail.  It  would  be  pleasant 
to  write  that  his  last  years  were  spent  in  comfort, 
but,  as  his  son  declared,  "The  discovery,  while  a 
boon  to  the  world,  was  a  tragedy  to  its  author  and 
his  family." 


ELIAS  HOWE 

INVENTOR  OF  THE  SEWING-MACHINE 
1819-1867 

1846,  patented  the  first  successful  sewing-machine 

IN  the  good  old  New  England  fashion  the  whole 
Howe  family  worked.  The  father  was  farmer  and 
miller,  and  the  boys  helped  him.  The  mother  and 
the  girls  kept  the  house.  In  country  homes  it  was 
then  the  custom  to  help  fill  the  family  purse  by  do 
ing  various  kinds  of  "sale  work."  The  Howes  and 
most  of  their  neighbors  spent  their  spare  time  stick 
ing  bits  of  wire  into  strips  of  leather,  and  so  making 
the  cards  for  carding  cotton  which  not  many  years 
later  a  machine  made  so  much  faster. 

At  sixteen  the  boy  Elias  went  out  into  the  world 
to  seek  his  fortune,  quite  in  the  fashion  of  the  old 
fairy  tales.  He  made  his  way  into  the  enchanted 
castle,  which  was  a  great  factory  in  Lowell,  Massa 
chusetts,  where  machines  for  spinning  and  weaving 
cotton  were  made.  Two  years  later  the  bad  fairy, 
in  the  shape  of  hard  times,  made  her  appearance, 
and  closed  every  mill  in  the  city. 

But  Boston  is  not  far  from  Lowell,  and  there  the 
young  man  went  in  search  of  a  job.  After  a  little 
he  found  it,  on  Cornhill,  in  the  shop  of  a  rather 
erratic  genius  named  Ari  Davis,  who  manufactured 
and  repaired  chronometers  and  surveyors'  instru 
ments.  Now  in  the  lives  of  all  inventors  something 


48  ELIAS  HOWE 

always  "happened  one  day"  to  set  their  minds  to 
work.  What  "happened"  to  young  Howe  was  the 
call  of  a  man  who  was  dreaming  of  inventing  a 
knitting-machine.  Maybe  the  shopkeeper  was  a 
little  tired  of  his  caller's  talk.  At  any  rate,  he 
burst  into  it  with  - 

"Why  do  you  bother  about  a  knitting-machine? 
Why  don't  you  make  a  sewing-machine?" 

"It  can't  be  done,"  said  the  would-be  inventor. 

"Yes,  it  can,"  declared  Davis.  "I  could  do  it 
myself." 

"Do  it,  then,"  retorted  the  caller,  "and  you  will 
have  an  independent  fortune." 

Davis  did  not  "do  it,"  and  no  one  paid  any 
attention  to  the  young  fellow  who  was  working 
quietly  at  his  bench  a  few  steps  away  and  listening 
to  every  word.  The  idea  of  inventing  was  not  new 
in  the  Howe  family.  One  uncle  had  invented  a 
spring  bed.  Another,  seeking  for  glory  rather  than 
ease,  had  invented  a  valuable  truss  for  roofs  and 
bridges. 

Of  course  the  proper  thing  for  a  moneyless  youth 
who  had  the  bee  of  invention  in  his  bonnet  would 
have  "been  to  devote  every  minute  and  every  penny 
to  bringing  it  out.  Instead  of  that,  young  Howe 
proceeded  to  get  married,  and  when  he  was  twenty- 
four  he  had  a  wife  and  children;  and  they  were  all 
trying  to  live  on  his  wages  of  nine  dollars  a  week. 

When  Howe  came  home  after  his  day's  work  - 
and  in  those  times  a  day's  work  lasted  from  sunrise 
to   sunset  —  he   always   found   his   wife   stitching, 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  SEWING-MACHINE    49 

stitching,  trying  to  earn  a  little  with  her  needle.  It 
is  no  wonder  that  he  thought  of  sewing-machines  or 
that  his  first  idea  was  to  make  one  that  would  work 
with  just  the  same  motions  as  those  taken  by  his 
wife's  fingers,  and  would  make  a  stitch  just  like 
hers.  At  length  he  began  to  wonder  if  some  other 
kind  of  stitch 
would  not  be  just 
as  good ;  and  now 
he  was  on  the 
right  track. 

He  was  not  the 
first  man  who 
had  tried  to  in 
vent  a  sewing- 
machine,  and 
some  of  them 
had  met  with  a 
degree  of  suc 
cess.  Queerly 
enough,  most  of 
these  people  had 
aimed  at  making 
a  machine  that 
would  embroid 
er,  and  appar 
ently  had  little 

thought  of  trying  to  make  one  that  would  sew  up  a 
seam.  One  used  a  needle  with  a  hook  like  that  of  a 
crochet  needle,  and  made  a  chain  on  one  side  of  the 
cloth.  Another  used  a  common  sewing-needle. 


Courtesy  Singer  Manufacturing  Company 

THE  FIRST  SEWING-MACHINE  MADE  BY 
HOWE 


50  ELIAS  HOWE 

Pincers  under  the  cloth  pulled  it  down,  and  other 
pincers  above  the  cloth  pulled  it  up  again.  One  had 
a  horizontal  needle  which  stood  still  while  the  cloth 
was  pressed  upon  it.  A  very  crude  machine  was 
made  for  sewing  shoes.  An  awl  made  the  hole  in 
the  leather;  a  spindle  laid  the  thread  over  the  hole; 
and  a  needle  with  no  eye,  but  with  a  notch  at  the 
end,  pushed  it  through.  A  loop  was  left  under 
neath  which  was  caught  by  a  hook  and  held  till  a 
second  stitch  was  made  through  it. 

Howe  had  seen  machines  that  would  make  a 
chain  stitch;  but  this  used  up  too  much  thread,  left 
a  ridge  on  one  side  of  the  cloth,  and  could  be  easily 
raveled.  He  had  in  mind  some  kind  of  stitch  that 
would  be  firm  and  strong  and  would  not  leave  a 
ridge.  The  idea  of  a  needle  with  an  eye  near  the 
point  was  not  new,  but  the  idea  of  using  two  threads, 
one  passing  through  the  needle's  eye,  and  the  other 
held  in  a  shuttle  underneath  which  should  lock  the 
stitch,  was  his  own.  He  made  a  crude  machine, 
and  it  sewed  well  enough  to  show  that  an  excellent 
seam  could  be  made  if  only  the  machine  was  perfect 
in  all  its  parts.  Models  cost  money;  so  does  the 
support  of  a  man  and  wife  and  their  children;  and 
there  was  no  money.  Mr.  Howe's  father  had 
lost  heavily  by  a  fire  and  could  give  him  no  help. 
What  could  be  done? 

If  Howe  had  not  always  been  a  kindly,  good- 
natured  person,  it  is  hard  to  say  what  would  have 
become  of  his  invention;  but  he  always  won  friends, 
and  now  an  old  schoolmate,  one  George  Fisher, 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  SEWING-MACHINE    51 

came  to  the  rescue.  He  agreed  to  give  the  Howes 
a  home  and  provide  five  hundred  dollars  for  buying 
tools  and  materials.  If  the  machine  succeeded,  he 
was  to  have  half  the  profits. 

All  that  winter  of  1844-45  Howe  worked  on  his 
model,  while  the  neighbors  gossiped  over  the  folly 
of  George  Fisher  in  throwing  away  on  such  a  wild- 
goose  chase  the  money  which  he  had  just  inherited; 
but  when  July  came  he  appeared  among  them, 
wearing  a  suit  of  clothes  sewed  on  the  new  machine. 

One  would  suppose  that  all  the  tailors  in  the  land 
would  have  been  eager  for  a  machine,  but  they 
would  not  even  try  it.  They  declared  that  its 
seams  could  not  possibly  be  as  even  and  strong  as 
those  made  by  hand.  "I  will  show  what  it  can 
do,"  said  Howe;  and  he  carried  the  machine  to  a 
clothing  factory.  "Give  me  ten  seams  of  five  yards 
each,"  he  said,  "and  I  will  sew  them  before  five  of 
your  swiftest  seamstresses  can  do  the  same  amount." 
He  did  it,  and  all  had  to  admit  that  his  seams  were 
much  better  than  theirs. 

Still  no  one  would  buy  the  machines.  They  were 
expensive,  to  be  sure,  costing  three  hundred  dollars 
each,  but  a  stronger  reason  was  the  fear  that  they 
would  throw  men  out  of  employment.  The  in 
ventor  did  not  lose  courage.  He  worked  for  three 
months  on  a  second  model  of  his  machine,  for  he 
could  not  patent  it  without  having  one  to  deposit 
at  the  Patent  Office.  Then  he  and  Fisher  went  to 
Washington  and  secured  a  patent;  but  still  no  one 
ordered  a  machine. 


52  ELIAS  HOWE 

Fisher  had  now  put  two  thousand  dollars  into  the 
invention,  and  he  could  do  no  more.  Perhaps 
there  would  be  a  chance  in  the  great  factories  of 
England,  and  Howe's  brother  Amasa  took  the 
precious  little  box  containing  the  model  and  went 
by  steerage  to  England.  A  manufacturer  bought 
the  machine,  paid  for  it,  and  secured  from  Amasa 
Howe  the  right  to  patent  it  in  England.  He  agreed 
to  pay  the  inventor  £3  for  every  machine  sold  in 
that  country;  and  he  contrived  so  to  impress  Amasa 
with  his  honesty  and  trustworthiness  that  the  in 
experienced  American  did  not  even  have  the  agree 
ment  put  in  writing. 

The  manufacturer  sent  for  the  inventor  and  his 
family  to  come  to  London  to  adapt  one  of  the 
machines  to  the  making  of  corsets.  Howe  went 
gladly  and  was  successful;  but  just  as  soon  as  the 
machine  was  done  the  manufacturer  had  no  further 
use  for  him;  and  although  he  himself  became  a 
millionaire  from  the  patent,  Howe  never  received 
a  shilling  of  the  royalty  that  had  been  promised. 

Troubles  were  heaped  upon  him.  His  wife  had  to 
return  to  America  or  starve;  and  soon  he  himself 
followed  her,  paying  his  passage  by  cooking  for 
the  emigrants  on  the  boat.  He  reached  New  York 
with  only  sixty  cents  in  his  pocket,  and  he  had 
hardly  secured  work  before  he  heard  that  his  wife 
was  dying.  Then  came  news  that  his  model  had 
been  lost  in  a  shipwreck.  Again  friends  came  to  his 
rescue.  They  offered  to  care  for  his  children,  and 
he  went  to  work  as  a  machinist.  It  was  not  long 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  SEWING-MACHINE    53 

before  he  discovered  that  his  machine  had  come 
into  use,  but  not  under  his  name.  It  had  been 
altered  so  that  no  one  but  the  inventor  would 
have  easily  recognized  it.  Then  Howe  was  aroused. 
Again  a  friend  lent  him  money,  and  he  fought  for 
his  rights  in  court  after  court,  winning  every  suit. 

After  all  his  struggles  he  became  in  a  day  a  rich 
man.  He  enjoyed  his  money  and  was  ready  to 
admit  the  fact;  but  he  enjoyed  it  more  for  what  it 
would  buy  for  others  than  for  the  luxuries  that  it 
would  provide 
for  himself. 
When  the  Civil 
War  broke  out 
he  organized  a 
regiment  and 
presented  each 
man  writh  a 
horse.  He  was 

Courtesy  Singer  Manufacturing  Company 

elected      colonel  THE  SEWING-MACHINE  OF  1921 

of    the   regiment,       The  latest  model  of  this  sewing-machine  can  be  run 
by  an  electric  motor.    Compare  this  highly  perfected 

but    he    declined       piece  of  mechanism  with  the  crude  device  invented 
,  ..    A      .  by  Howe. 

and    enlisted  as 

a  private,  and  served  in  the  ranks  until  his  health 
gave  out.  Then  he  became  regimental  postmaster, 
determined  to  help  in  one  way  if  not  in  another. 
Perhaps  he  never  realized  fully  how  much  he  did 
help,  for  it  is  hard  to  see  how  the  uniforms  and 
tents  and  sails  and  shoes  for  the  soldiers  and  sailors 
could  possibly  have  been  made  without  the  machine 
that  he  had  invented. 


MARIA  MITCHELL 

ASTRONOMER  AND  TEACHER 

1818-1889 

1848,  elected  to  the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences; 
the  first  woman  on  its  roll 

A  MAN  on  the  roof  of  a  house,  peering  through  a 
telescope,  and  his  little  daughter  beside  him,  "count 
ing  seconds"  by  a  chronometer  —  this  is  our  first 
view  of  Maria  Mitchell  and  her  father. 

The  home  of  the  Mitchells  was  on  the  windy 
island  of  Nantucket.  They  were  Quakers  and 
lived  in  Quaker  simplicity;  but  Nantucket  had  a 
good  library,  and  the  Mitchell  home  was  always 
well  supplied  with  books.  The  father  taught  the 
grammar  school,  then  became  cashier  of  the  island 
bank.  He  held  several  public  positions  of  honor; 
he  was  a  State  Senator  and  for  many  years  one  of 
the  overseers  of  Harvard  College.  He  was  quite  as 
well  known,  however,  by  his  articles  in  scientific 
magazines.  He  loved  astronomy,  and  he  owned  a 
little  observatory,  which  enabled  him  to  add  to  his 
income  by  doing  astronomical  work  for  the  United 
States  Coast  Survey,  and  also  brought  to  his  home 
some  of  the  best-known  scientific  men  of  the  day. 

Before  long  his  daughter  Maria  became  known  as 
a  skillful  astronomer.  One  night  in  1847,  when  she 
had,  as  usual  on  clear  evenings,  taken  her  lantern 
and  gone  to  the  roof  to  "sweep  the  heavens,"  she 


ASTRONOMER  AND  TEACHER         55 

called  her  father  and  told  him  she  believed  she  had 
seen  a  comet.  The  father  eagerly  wrote  to  the 
Cambridge  Observatory  of  the  discovery,  stating 
the  position  of  the  comet  and  when  it  had  appeared. 
Now  it  chanced  that  Edward  Everett,  who  was 
then  President  of  Harvard,  had  learned  that  about 
the  time  when  the  little  girl  of  twelve  was  counting 
seconds  for  her  father,  the  King  of  Denmark  had 
offered  a  gold  medal  to  the  first  discoverer  of  a 
telescopic  comet.  The  king  was  dead,  his  son  cared 
little  for  astronomy.  Moreover,  the  announcement 
of  the  discovery  had  been  delayed  two  days  by  the 
lack  of  mails  from  the  island,  and  had  not  been  re 
ported  to  the  proper  authorities.  "  Miss  Mitchell's 
comet"  became  the  subject  of  considerable  corres 
pondence  between  Cambridge  and  Copenhagen;  but 
at  length  the  gold  medal  appeared,  and  the  happy 
young  astronomer  was  straightway  made  a  member 
of  the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  the 
only  woman  ever  admitted  to  membership.  She 
was  a  little  amused  at  the  amount  of  lionizing  that 
she  received.  "It  is  only  a  sort  of  theatrical  per 
formance,"  she  said;  and  she  returned  quietly  to 
her  island.  She  worked  on  the  Nautical  Almanac, 
she  "swept"  -both  the  skies  and  the  floors;  she 
sewed,  she  cared  for  her  mother,  she  knit  long 
stockings  for  her  father,  she  made  tatting  between 
times,  she  took  a  lesson  or  two  in  whist  and  learned 
-  so  she  said  —  to  understand  what  her  partner 
meant  when  she  winked  at  her.  In  short,  she  did 
riot  behave  at  all  as  some  folk  might  have  ex- 


56  MARIA  MITCHELL 

pected  of  a  young  woman  who  had  suddenly  become 
famous. 

For  a  number  of  years  she  had  been  librarian  of 
the  Nantucket  Library,  and  out  of  her  small  salary 
she  had  each  year  saved  a  part  for  a  trip  to  Europe. 
Now  it  was  made.  She  saw  the  things  she  most 
wanted  to  see  —  observatories,  of  course  —  and  she 
met  the  people  she  most  wanted  to  meet  —  as 
tronomers,  of  course  —  Humboldt,  Mrs.  Somer- 
ville,  Leverrier,  Sir  George  Airy,  and  the  Herschels 
-  and  she  came  back  to  Nantucket  rested  and 
happy. 

Soon  after  she  returned  from  Europe  a  great 
pleasure  came  to  her,  the  gift  of  a  fine  equatorial 
telescope  from  a  number  of  American  women.  An 
other  gift  which  found  her  about  the  same  time,  and 
which  she  valued  very  highly,  was  a  medal  from  the 
tiny  Republic  of  San  Marino,  perched  far  up  on  the 
Apennines  and  "entirely  surrounded  by  Italy." 

On  a  second  trip  to  Europe  she  paid  a  visit  to  the 
observatory  at  Pulkova,  near  St.  Petersburg  [Pet- 
rograd],  Russia,  over  which  the  eminent  astronomer 
Struve  presided. 

In  1860  Mrs.  Mitchell  died.  It  was  desirable  for 
the  daughter  to  be  nearer  Boston,  and  the  father 
was  attracted  to  Lynn  because  of  the  number  of 
Quakers  who  lived  there.  The  Mitchells  left  the 
island  and  for  five  years  they  made  their  home  in 
Lynn.  Then  came  a  great  change.  Vassar  College 
was  about  to  be  opened,  and  Miss  Mitchell  was  ap 
pointed  Professor  of  Astronomy  and  Director  of  the 


ASTRONOMER  AND  TEACHER 


57 


Observatory.  Should  she  accept  the  appointment? 
Her  father  said  yes,  and  in  1865  father  and  daughter 
took  possession  of  the  Vassar  Observatory. 

Mr.    Mitchell    had   snow-white   hair,    a   kindly, 


AN  OLD  VIEW  OF  VASSAR  COLLEGE 

This  shows  the  main  building;  also  at  the  left  the  Observatory  in  which  Miss 
Mitchell  did  her  work,  and  at  the  right  the  Museum  building.  The  view  is  taken 
from  a  print  in  an  early  catalogue  of  the  college. 

courteous  manner,  and  a  delightful  fashion  of  talk 
ing  a  little  with  any  students  whom  he  met  as  he 
walked  about  the  college  grounds.  Everything  was 
so  new  and  experimental  that  the  presence  of  this 
serene,  benignant,  old-school  gentleman  during  the 
four  years  that  he  lived  after  coming  to  Vassar  was 
like  the  quiet  after  a  storm. 

Miss  Mitchell  had  a  strong,  handsome  face, 
framed  by  short  iron-gray  curls.  Her  eyes  were 
dark  and  piercing,  but  with  an  expression  of  friend 
liness  that  won  the  confidence  of  every  one  who  met 
her.  Whether  she  praised  or  blamed,  she  was 


58  MARIA  MITCHELL 

equally  frank.  To  a  class-day  speaker  she  said, 
"I  came  out  as  soon  as  you  were  through,  for  I 
knew  that  I  had  heard  the  creme  de  la  creme  of  the 
occasion."  A  man  of  wide  reputation  once  insisted 
upon  imposing  his  somewhat  condescending  criti 
cisms  upon  her,  and  ended  by  telling  her  that  she  was 
wasting  her  time  in  going  over  to  the  college  dining- 
hall  for  her  meals.  "  You  could  easily  make  yourself 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  boil  an  egg  in  the  morning,"  he 
declared.  She  demanded  with  an  air  that  must  have 
made  him  feel  like  an  impertinent  small  boy,  "And 
is  my  time  worth  no  more  than  to  boil  eggs?" 

In  her  classes  Professor  Mitchell  was  an  inspi 
ration,  and  the  students  responded  to  her  appeal. 
"I  think  the  Vassar  girls,  in  the  main,  are  magnifi 
cent,  they  are  so  all-alive,"  she  wrote  in  her  jour 
nal,  never  seeming  to  suspect  that  no  one  could  be 
dull  and  stupid  under  her  influence,  "the  bright, 
unwavering  star,"  as  the  president  of  the  college 
called  her.  In  her  famous  "dome  parties,"  given 
each  year  to  the  students  in  her  classes,  the  girls 
sang  to  the  tune  of  "John  Brown": 

"\\Vre  singing  for  the  glory  of  Maria  Mitchell's  name, 
She  lives  at  Vassar  College,  and  you  all  do  know  the  same. 
She  once  did  spy  a  comet,  and  she  thus  was  known  to  fame, 
Good  woman  that  she  was. 

"Though  as  strong  as  Rocky  Mountains,  she  is  gentle  as  a 

lamb, 

And  in  her  way  and  manners  she  is  peaceable  and  calm, 
And  our  mental  perturbations  she  sobtheth  like  a  balm, 
Good  woman  that  she  am." 


ASTRONOMER  AND  TEACHER         59 

At  the  first  singing  of  this  she  replied,  "I'm  not  a 
wise  woman,  but  I  am  glad  you  think  1  am  a  good 

woman." 

Many  a  college  textbook  is  scribbled  over  with 

her  choice  words 
of  wit  and  wis 
dom,  such  as 
these : 

"Every  for 
mula  which  ex 
presses  a  law  of 
nature  is  a  hymn 
of  praise  to 
God."  "I  do 
think,  as  a  gen 
eral  rule,  that 
teachers  talk  too 
much.  A  book 
is  a  very  good 
institution." 

"We  wait  and 
ask  for  prece 
dent.  If  the 
earth  had  waited 
for  a  precedent, 
it  never  would 
have  turned  on 
its  axis." 

"iNiingle     the 
starlight  with  your  lives,  and  you  won't  be  fretted 
by  trifles." 


Courtesy  Vasaar  College 

MARIA  MITCHELL  AND  HER  ASSOCIATE; 

This  picture  shows  the  interior  of  the  dome  of  the, 
observatory  at  Vassar  College.  Miss  Mitchell  is  seated 
beside  the  twelve-inch  equatorial  telescope  which 
she  used  in  her  work. 


60  MARIA  MITCHELL 

"Medals  are  small  things  in  the  light  of  the  stars. 
There 's  only  one  thing  in  the  world  of  any  real  im 
portance,  and  that  is  goodness." 

"Be  content  to  get  on  slowly  if  you  only  get  on 
thoroughly/' 

Professor  Mitchell  received  honorary  degrees 
from  Dartmouth  and  from  Columbia ;  she  was  made 
a  member  of  numerous  scientific  societies;  she  was 
president  of  the  American  Association  for  the  Ad 
vancement  of  Women:  her  scientific  papers  were 
regarded  as  of  great  value  and  highly  praised;  but 
she  never  developed  any  more  self-consciousness 
than  when  she  was  a  little  girl  on  Nantucket. 

In  1888  she  resigned  her  position.  The  trustees 
made  her  Professor  Emeritus  and  offered  her  a 
home  at  the  observatory,  but  she  preferred  to  spend 
her  last  years  with  her  family  in  Lynn. 


HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON 

PRINTER  AND  PUBLISHER 

1823-1895 
1852,  founded  The  Riverside  Press 

IT  is  a  good  thing  to  be  born,  as  Henry  Oscar 
Houghton  was,  into  a  family  of  ten  children  of  all 
ages  from  twenty-one  years  down.  By  and  by  a 
little  sister  arrived,  and  then  the  round  dozen  was 
complete.  Their  home  was  in  the  little  "maple- 
sugar  town"  of  Sutton,  in  the  northeast  corner  of 
Vermont.  Sutton  was  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in, 
with  its  woods  and  fields  and  pastures  and  hills  and 
yet  more  hills,  with  a  mountain  or  two  on  one  side 
and  Willoughby  Gap  on  the  other;  but  in  1833  the 
family  left  it  and  moved  to  Bradford. 

As  the  wagon  of  household  goods  creaked  along 
the  family  cows  followed  it  in  sedate  procession. 
By  this  time  the  older  children  had  scattered.  A 
boy  of  ten  years,  however,  could  be  quite  a  helpful 
person,  and  the  little  Oscar,  as  he  was  called  in  the 
old  New  England  fashion  of  making  a  middle  name 
do  its  fair  share  of  the  work,  saw  to  it  that  the 
humble  followers  did  not  turn  aside  from  the  way 
in  which  they  should  walk.  When  he  was  tired  he 
mounted  the  load  of  goods  and  rode  in  lofty  state. 
The  family  spent  the  night  at  a  tavern,  a  new  ex 
perience  for  the  little  country  boy.  He  was  a  bit 
shy,  and  all  his  life  he  remembered  appreciatively 


62  HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON 

the  kindly  touch  of  the  hand  of  the  landlady's 
daughter  on  his  head  as  she  gave  him  his  bedroom 
candle  and  said  a  friendly  good-night. 

In  Bradford  there  was  an  academy,  and  he  went 
to  school  for  three  years.  He  was  a  man  then,  he 
thought,  quite  grown  up,  thirteen  years  old,  and  he 
began  to  consider  what  he  should  do  to  support 
himself.  The  result  of  his  meditations  was  that 
one  dark  morning  late  in  the  autumn  he  climbed 
into  the  big  lumbering  mail-coach  and  in  a  heavy 
snowstorm  made  his  first  little  journey  out  into  the 
world.  He  did  not  regard  it  as  a  " little"  journey, 
however,  but  as  an  event  of  vast  moment;  for  he 
had  the  honor  of  eating  dinner  in  the  capital  of  the 
State  just  as  if  he  was  one  of  those  awe-inspiring 
men  who  had  laid  aside  their  farmers'  frocks,  and  in 
blue  coats  and  brass  buttons  had  become  members 
of  the  legislature  and  lawmakers  for  the  whole 
State. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  reached  Burlington, 
his  journey's  end,  for  here  he  was  to  spend  the  next 
six  years  as  apprentice  in  a  printing  office,  learning 
the  mysteries  of  typesetting.  All  sorts  of  people 
come  into  a  printing-office,  and  one  day  a  tall, 
slender  man  came  to  the  case  where  the  boy  was 
at  work  and  said,  "My  lad,  when  you  use  these 
words,  will  you  please  spell  them  according  to  this 
list?"  and  he  gave  him  a  list  of  such  words  as 
theater;  center,  and  the  like.  This  was  one  of  the 
great  men  of  the  day,  Noah  Webster.  He  had  al 
ready  published  his  dictionary,  but  he  realized  that 


PRINTER  AND  PUBLISHER  63 

people  in  general  would  spell  not  according  to  some 
scholarly  theory,  but  according  to  forms  that  they 
saw  every  day  in  print,  and  he  was  very  wisely  be 
ginning  his  work  at  the  printing-offices. 

The  boy  was  on  his  way  to  college.      He  had 
saved  up  eighty  dollars  from  his  earnings,  and  felt 


A  FEW  OF  THE  CYLINDER  PRESSES  AT  THE  RIVERSIDE  PRESS 


Presses  like  these  are  used  in  printing  large  editions  of  books  in  great  demand. 
There  is  a  saw-tooth  roof  and  large  windows  so  that  the  Press  Room  receives  the 
maximum  of  daylight.  The  presses  are  set  on  a  concrete  foundation  so  that  all 
possible  vibration  is  avoided. 

quite  a  man  of  wealth ;  but  at  the  last  moment  his 
employer  failed,  and  at  the  age  of  nineteen  he 
opened  the  college  doors  with  just  three  York  shill 
ings  in  his  pocket.  It  took  two  of  these  to  settle 
him  in  his  room,  and  there  remained  twelve  and 
one-half  cents  to  pay  his  expenses  for  four  years. 
He  was  hardly  better  fitted  intellectually  than 


64  HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON 

financially,  for  most  of  his  studying  had  been  done 
without  much  guidance  and  after  a  long  day's  work 
at  the  composing-case.  "But  I  'm  going  to  try  it," 
he  said  pluckily  to  a  friend,  "and  see  if  I  can't 
catch  up  and  keep  up  and  make  my  living  too." 

He  had  some  help  from  his  family  in  making  his 
living,  but  the  catching  up  and  keeping  up  depended 
upon  his  own  grit,  and  that  never  failed.  One  of 
the  hardest  things  for  him  to  do  was  to  speak  in  the 
debating  society,  but  he  was  determined  not  to 
give  in.  He  tried  his  very  best  to  speak.  He  al 
ways  had  some  real  thought  to  bring  forward,  but 
he  never  could  bring  it.  He  stammered  and  hesi 
tated,  then  sat  down.  The  boys  laughed,  and  he 
laughed  too  —  and  the  next  meeting  he  tried  again. 
This  was  in  the  freshman  year  —  and  at  the  sopho 
more  exhibition,  the  boy  who  had  been  so  awkward 
and  stumbling  was  the  one  chosen  for  the  place  of 
honor,  to  make  the  closing  speech  of  the  afternoon. 

In  the  eighteen-forties  it  was  expected  that  a  boy 
who  went  through  college  was  aiming  at  being  a 
doctor,  lawyer,  or  minister.  It  was  quite  proper 
for  him  to  begin  work  in  any  one  of  these  lines  by 
teaching,  and  this  young  graduate  went  to  Wor 
cester,  Massachusetts,  expecting  to  find  a  position  to 
teach  near  that  city.  But  the  mails  had  been  de 
layed,  and  the  position  was  filled.  Not  at  all  dis 
couraged,  he  went  straight  to  Boston,  and  there  he 
became  a  reporter  and  proof-reader  on  the  Daily 
Traveler.  He  found  friends,  he  climbed  Bunker 
Hill  Monument,  he  visited  the  library  of  Harvard 


PRINTER  AND  PUBLISHER  65 

University,  and  was  not  at  all  sorry  that  he  had 
come. 

It  must  have  been  apparent  that  he  could  do  some 
thing  more  than  set  type,  for  before  long  he  had  an 
opportunity  to  go  into  partnership  with  a  well-es 
tablished  firm  of  printers.  They  were  willing  to 
put  their  twenty  years'  experience  on  a  par  with 
young  Houghton's  college  education,  and  now  the 
only  thing  lacking  was  the  money. 

The  day  came  when  he  must  give  his  answer,  and 
his  pocket  was  empty  as  ever.  But  quite  in  the 
story-book  fashion  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 
"  Is  this  Oscar  Hough  ton?"  asked  the  friendly  voice 
of  a  well-to-do  New  England  farmer.  He  proved 
to  be  the  husband  of  a  relative,  who  had  told  him 
to  be  sure  to  call  on  "  Cousin  Oscar.'  This  visitor 
became  interested  in  a  talk  about  the  business,  and 
at  length  offered  to  lend  the  necessary  money  to 
enter  the  new  partnership.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  The  Riverside  Press.  The  business  soon  fell 
entirely  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Houghton. 

Strictly  speaking,  the  business  of  a  printing- 
house  is  to  print  according  to  the  wishes  of  the 
publishers  who  employ  it;  but  to  make  a  man  a 
publisher  does  not  necessarily  make  him  a  man  of 
good  taste ;  and  many  books  of  the  earlier  and  middle 
part  of  the  nineteenth  century  were  volumes  of  ir 
regular  size  and  shape,  with  pages  too  long  or  too 
short,  with  poorly  proportioned  margins,  and  with 
foolish  little  scrolls  and  ornaments.  The  paper 
was  generally  poor,  and  the  ink  was  often  darker  on 


66  HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON 

one  page  than  another.  Spaces  between  the  words 
were  irregular;  spaces  betAveen  the  lines  were  often 
too  narrow  for  easy  reading;  and  the  books  were 
frequently  so  poorly  bound  that  even  with  the  ut 
most  care  they  would  not  open  without  cracking. 

Mr.  Houghton  had  an  instinctive  good  taste  which 
led  him  to  make  pages  of  the  proper  proportions,  to 
omit  the  silly  little  scrolls,  and  to  use  clear,  dignified 
type  that  would  not  call  the  reader's  attention  to 
the  letters,  but  would  leave  his  mind  free  for  the 
thought.  He  spread  the  ink  and  arranged  the  spac 
ing  properly,  and  he  bound  the  volumes  so  that 
they  would  bear  long  use.  Even  the  people  who 
did  not  know  how  to  plan  books  could  not  help  re 
alizing  that  these  Houghton  volumes  were  of  un 
usually  good  appearance,  and  they  did  not  often 
need  much  urging  to  allow  Mr.  Houghton  to  carry 
out  his  own  ideas.  Other  printers  began  to  follow 
his  example,  and  the  printing  of  to-day  owes  much 
of  its  general  excellence  to  the  reforms  of  the  printer 
of  Riverside. 

The  books  printed  at  Riverside  were  almost  al 
ways  books  of  permanent  value.  When  Noah  Web 
ster  asked  the  young  typesetter  to  use  his  spelling, 
he  never  guessed  that  the  young  man  at  the  case 
would  become  the  printer  of  his  dictionary;  but  this 
came  to  pass,  for  Mr.  Houghton  now  made  an  en 
gagement  with  the  publishers  of  Webster's  Un 
abridged  to  print  the  dictionary,  tons  and  tons  of  it, 
every  year. 

But  the  thoughts  of  this  printer  were  gradually 


PRINTER  AND  PUBLISHER  67 

turning  toward  publishing,  and  soon  a  new  firm, 
Hurd  &  Houghton,  was  formed.  The  printing- 
house  was  not  neglected  by  any  means,  but  received 


THE  COVER-STAMPING  ROOM  AT  THE  RIVERSIDE  PRESS 

The  cloth  covers  of  books  are  made  on  machines  which  automatically  glue  the  cloth 
and  fold  it  around  the  sides  of  the  cardboards.  In  the  room  shown  in  the  picture 
the  design  and  lettering  are  printed  upon  the  cloth;  and  in  another  room  the  books 
themselves  are  pasted  securely  into  the  covers. 

even  more  care  and  attention.  Better  work  was 
then  done  in  Europe  than  in  America,  and  Mr. 
Houghton  went  to  England  to  secure  the  best  work 
men  and  the  best  type  and  binding  that  could  be 
found.  "Tout  bien  on  rien,"  Everything  well  or 
nothing,  did  not  appear  on  the  title-page  of  his  books 
until  later,  but  it  was  his  motto  from  the  first. 

The  new  firm  began  with  standard  literature  for 
adults;  but  the  children  were  not  forgotten.  Chil 
dren's  books  and  magazines  came  chiefly  from 


68  HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON 

England.  Their  ideas  and  teachings  were  English. 
People  did  not  talk  about  "Americanization"  in 
those  days,  more's  the  pity,  but  Mr.  Houghton  be 
lieved  that  American  children  should  have  Ameri 
can  teachings,  and  he  decided  not  only  to  bring  out 
books  for  children,  but  also  to  publish  a  magazine  for 
them.  This  was  the  origin  of  the  Riverside  Maga 
zine.  For  many  years  the  Atlantic  Monthly  was 
printed  at  The  Riverside  Press. 

The  firm  name  was  changed  from  Kurd  &  Hough- 
ton  to  Houghton,  Osgood  &  Company;  afterward  to 
Houghton  Mifflin  Company.  The  offices  are  now 
in  New  York,  Chicago,  and  San  Francisco  as  well 
as  in  Boston.  The  Boston  office  is  in  one  of  the 
old  mansions,  whose  big  fireplaces  and  homelike 
rooms  give  a  hint  of  the  friendly  relations  existing 
between  the  publishers  and  the  authors  on  their  lists. 

How  did  it  come  about  that  the  great  publishing 
house  with  which  authors  are  proud  to  be  connected 
was  brought  into  existence  by  the  boy  who  entered 
college  on  a  capital  of  three  shillings?  In  the  first 
place,  Mr.  Houghton  did  not  leave  anything  to  be 
managed  at  haphazard ;  he  had  certain  definite  prin 
ciples  of  business.  He  said,  "  I  put  all  my  eggs  into 
one  basket,  and  then  I  carry  the  basket."  He 
"carried  the  basket"  by  paying  close  attention  to 
little  things  as  well  as  big  ones.  When  he  gave  an 
order,  he  saw  to  it  that  the  order  was  obeyed.  "If 
I  tell  a  boy  to  hang  up  my  overcoat,"  he  said,  "I 
expect  him  to  come  back  and  tell  me  he  has  done  it." 
For  many  years  not  one  letter  or  one  bill  was  sent 


PRINTER  AND  PUBLISHER  69 

away  which  he  had  not  read ;  and  when  the  business 
became  too  large  for  this,  little  yellow  paper  memo 
randa  were  always  brought  him  of  each  day's  cor 
respondence.  He  looked  upon  his  business  not  only 
as  a  business,  but  as  a  charge  entrusted  to  him  for 
which  he  was  in  duty  bound  to  do  his  best;  and  it 
was  his  great  pride  to  make  sure  that  the  name 
"Riverside"  should  be  a  mark  of  quality.  As  one 
of  his  friends  said,  "He  thought  of  it  [his  business] 
as  an  artist  thinks  of  the  picture  he  paints." 

He  came  before  working  hours,  and  he  often  paid 
the  office  a  call  late  in  the  evening.  He  required 
accurate,  thorough  work:  but  there  was  little  to  com 
plain  of  when  he  demanded  more  of  himself  than  of 
his  men.  In  a  time  of  panic  he  was  advised  to  dis 
charge  some  of  his  workmen ;  but  he  had  never  for 
gotten  what  it  meant  to  need  work,  and  he  replied 
emphatically,  "Shorten  my  pay-roll?  Turn  people 
out  of  work?  Never!"  In  any  disagreement  he 
could  always  see  the  other  side.  "I  try  to  think 
how  I  should  feel  if  1  were  in  -  -'s  place,"  he  once 
said. 

This  same  consideration  was  carried  into  his  re 
lations  with  the  authors  \vhose  names  were  on  his 
list.  In  the  most  carefully  made  agreements  there 
will  sometimes  be  a  loophole  for  misunderstanding; 
and  this  man,  who  could  not  be  forced  to  yield  a 
penny  to  any  one,  said,  "If  there  is  ever  any  ques 
tion  in  regard  to  what  is  due  to  an  author,  always 
give  the  author  the  benefit  of  the  doubt."  In  one 
instance  in  which  the  arrangement  was  that  the 


HENRY  OSCAR  HOUGHTON 


author  should  pay  the  cost  of  publication,  the  book 
failed  to  sell,  and  although  Mr.  Houghton  had  ad 
vised  against  publishing  it,  he  assumed  the  expense. 
"We  are  better  able  to  afford  the  loss  than  the 
writer  is,"  he  declared.  It  is  no  wonder  that  one  of 
''his"  authors  said,  "If  I  were  in  any  trouble,  I 
should  want  to  go  and  tell  Mr.  Houghton." 

Such  was  the  man  who  succeeded,  the  man  who 
deserved  to  succeed. 


On  this  page  are  printed  three  "  colophons  "  used  at  various  times 
by  Houghton  Mifflin  Company.  Emblematic  devices  of  this  sort 
have  been  used  by  printers  in  all  ages  since  the  invention  of  their 
art;  at  first,  on  the  last  page  of  their  books,  but  in  recent  times  on 
the  title-pages.  The  motto,  "Tout  bien  ou  rien,"  means  "Do  it 
well  or  not  at  all,"  and  had  long  been  followed  by  Mr.  Houghton  in 
his  work  before  it  was  used  in  the  colophon.  The  first  design  was 
made  by  Elihu  Vedder,  the  artist  who  illustrated  The  Rubdiydt  of 
Omar  Khayyam.  The  other  two  designs  are  adapted  from  Mr. 
Vedder's  suggestion  by  other  artists,  and  it  is  interesting  to  see  how 
the  same  general  theme  has  been  kept.  Another  form  of  colophon 
is  shown  on  the  title-page  of  this  book. 


CYRUS  W.  FIELD 

THE  MAN  WHO  LAID  THE  ATLANTIC  CABLE 
1819-1892 

1858,  the  Atlantic  Cable  successfully  laid 

THE  Field  boys  were  sons  of  a  dignified  minister 
of  the  old  school,  but  at  their  early  homes  in  Had- 
dam,  Connecticut,  and  Stockbridge,  Massachusetts, 
stories  of  their  pranks  are  still  told.  One  boy,  in 
the  midst  of  his  father's  sermon,  walked  gravely  up 
the  aisle  of  the  church  with  a  rat-trap  in  his  hand 
and  a  look  of  innocence  on  his  face.  The  trap  had 
been  mislaid,  and  his  father  had  said,  "Whenever 
you  find  that  trap,  bring  it  to  me  at  once."  The 
boy  had  obeyed. 

Cyrus  was  the  sixth  of  the  seven  boys.  At  fifteen 
he  was  in  New  York,  in  the  famous  old  store  of  A.  T. 
Stewart,  and  before  he  was  twenty-one  he  was  a 
partner  in  another  New  York  firm.  The  firm  failed, 
and  the  junior  partner  took  upon  himself  the  burden 
of  debt.  He  gave  up  to  the  creditors  every  dollar 
that  he  had,  and  was  released  from  all  claims.  Then 
he  went  into  business  for  himself. 

He  was  so  successful  that  in  1853,  before  he  was 
thirty-four  years  of  age,  he  retired  with  a  fortune  of 
$250,000,  equal  to  fully  $1,000,000  to-day.  Then 
he  turned  back  to  his  old  account-books,  opened  his 
check-book,  and  sent  to  every  one  of  the  debtors  of 
ten  years  before  a  check  for  the  difference  between 
what  had  been  paid  him  and  his  full  claim,  including 


72  CYRUS  W.  FIELD 

also  seven  per  cent  interest  for  the  ten  years.  He 
did  even  more  than  this,  for  he  forgave  the  debts 
of  several  men  who  owed  him  money.  Then  he  re 
tired  from  business  and  made  ready  to  travel,  rest, 
and  enjoy  a  quiet,  happy  home  life. 

One  of  Cyrus  Field's  brothers  said  of  him,  "I 
never  saw  Cyrus  so  uneasy  as  when  he  was  trying  to 
keep  still."  Certainly,  in  this  case,  "Cyrus"  had 
hardly  given  up  work  before  he  began  to  be  more 
active  than  ever  before  —  which  is  saying  a  good 
deal.  Possibly  it  was  this  same  brother  who  set 
him  to  work  by  introducing  an  electrical  engineer 
named  Gisborne.  Mr.  Gisborne  had  formed  a  com 
pany  to  connect  St.  John's  with  New  Brunswick 
and  the  United  States  partly  by  land  telegraph  and 
partly  by  submarine  cable.  A  short  cable  had  al 
ready  been  laid  between  Prince  Edward  Island  and 
New  Brunswick,  and  thirty  or  forty  miles  of  tele 
graph  erected  when  the  money  gave  out.  He  had 
now  come  to  New  York  to  try  to  interest  capitalists 
in  the  undertaking. 

Mr.  Field  soon  became  convinced  that  the  scheme 
was  practicable,  and  one  night,  after  Mr.  Gisborne 
had  returned  to  his  hotel,  he  stood  in  his  library 
thinking  and  studying  the  large  globe  that  stood 
there.  He  was  looking  at  the  eastern  coast  of  the 
United  States,  at  Newfoundland,  and  at  Ireland. 
Distances  seemed  short  on  the  globe,  and  he  began 
to  wonder  why,  if  it  was  possible  to  connect  New 
foundland  and  the  United  States,  it  was  not  possible 
to  connect  Newfoundland  and  Ireland. 


LAYER  OF  THE  ATLANTIC  CABLE  73 

Mr.  Field  did  not  jump  at  conclusions,  but  he 
did  his  thinking  rapidly.  The  result  of  his  thinking 
that  evening  was  that  in  the  morning's  mail  he  sent 
one  letter  to  Professor  Maury,  the  geographer,  and 
another  to  Professor  Morse,  inventor  of  the  tele 
graph.  He  also  talked  with  his  lawyer  brother  and 
with  Mr.  Peter  Cooper.  A  small  but  wealthy  com 
pany  was  formed;  but  people  in  general  had  little 
confidence  in  the  scheme.  "If  you  lose  your  cable, 
and  it  goes  to  the  bottom,  what  shall  you  do?" 
some  one  asked  Mr.  Field  "  Charge  it  to  profit  and 
loss  and  lay  another,"  he  answered  cheerfully. 

The  cable  was  made  in  England.  It  consisted  of 
seven  copper  wires  covered  with  gutta-percha  and 
wound  with  tarred  hemp.  The  plan  was  for  an 
American  vessel,  the  Niagara,  to  start  from  Valen- 
tia,  Ireland,  and  lay  the  cable  halfway  to  New 
foundland.  There  she  was  to  meet  an  English  ves 
sel,  the  Agamemnon.  The  cable  was  to  be  spliced 
in  mid-ocean  and  laid  by  the  Agamemnon  to  Trinity 
Bay  in  Newfoundland. 

The  ship  came  to  anchor  off  Valentia  Bay. 
Crowds  had  waited  all  day  long  for  the  sight.  "It  's 
the  cable  that  will  be  bringing  us  nearer  to  the 
country  that  sent  us  food  in  the  famine,  bless  her!" 
one  man  cried;  and  when  the  end  of  the  cable  was 
brought  to  land,  the  crowd  swarmed  about  it  to 
help  pull,  and  the  man  who  could  show  a  tarry  hand 
was  a  hero  to  all  his  neighbors. 

The  cable  was  fastened  firmly  to  the  shore.  The 
rector  of  the  parish  made  a  prayer,  the  people 


74  CYRUS  W.  FIELD 

cheered  for  the  United  States,  for  "  Yankee  Doodle," 
for  the  Queen,  and  the  President,  and  the  American 
Navy,  and  the  officers  and  men  who  were  to  lay  the 
cable,  and  for  Cyrus  Field.  He  replied,  "If  ever 
on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  one  of  you  present 
yourself  at  my  door  and  say  you  had  a  hand  in  this, 
I  promise  you  an  American  welcome." 

The  ship  sailed,  and  for  four  days  all  went  well; 
then  the  cable  broke.  This  meant  a  loss  of  $500,000 
and  a  year's  time.  New  capital  was  raised,  and  the 
following  year  (1858)  the  same  two  vessels  started 
in  mid-ocean,  one  toward  Ireland  and  the  other 
toward  America,  laying  the  cable  as  they  sailed. 
Again  it  broke,  but  the  third  attempt  succeeded. 

The  whole  United  States  celebrated.  Even  in 
little  Stockbridge  " Bells  were  rung,  guns  fired;  and 
the  children,  let  out  of  school,  shouted,  'The  cable 
is  laid !  The  cable  is  laid ! ' '  Queen  Victoria  cabled 
a  message  to  President  Buchanan,,  and  President 
Buchanan  cabled  a  reply  to  Queen  Victoria.  New 
York  was  wild  with  delight.  There  were  illumina 
tions  and  processions  and  dinners.  There  were  re 
ceptions  and  fireworks  and  torchlight  parades.  One 
of  the  transparencies  carried  among  many  others  in 
the  torchlight  parades  is  shown  on  page  75. 

John  G.  Saxe  wrote  his  poem,  How  Cyrus  Laid  the 
Cable.  Telegrams  of  congratulation  came  to  Mr. 
Field  by  the  hundred  —  and  then  the  cable  stopped 
working. 


LAYER  OF  THE  ATLANTIC  CABLE     75 


Lightning 
caught  and  tamed  by 

FRANKLIN, 
taught  to  read  and  write  and  go  on  errands  by 

MORSE, 

started  in  foreign  trade  by 
FIELD,  COOPER  &  CO., 

with 
JOHNNY  BULL 

and 
BROTHER  JONATHAN 

as 
special  partners 


Mr.  Field's  wonderful  perseverance  and  his  sense 
of  honor  were  equally  strong.  When  he  retired 
from  business  he  had  agreed  at  the  request  of  his 
partner  to  leave  nearly  half  his  money  in  the  firm. 
On  returning  from  England  after  the  loss  of  the  first 
cable,  the  first  news  to  meet  him  was  that  in  the 
panic  of  1857  his  firm  had  suspended.  As  before,  he 
took  the  debts  upon  himself,  and  two  years  later 
he  paid  every  penny.  In  1860,  just  before  the 
breaking-out  of  the  Civil  War,  he  was  again  obliged 
to  suspend.  He  gave  up  everything  that  belonged 
to  him,  even  the  pew  which  he  owned  in  church  and 
the  portraits  of  his  father  and  mother,  and  went  to 
work  bravely  to  pay  the  full  amount.  As  to  the 
cable,  he  was  as  courageous  as  ever.  He  wrote,  "I 
never  had  more  confidence  in  the  ultimate  success  of 


76  CYRUS  W.  FIELD 

the  Atlantic  Telegraph  Company  than  I  have  to 
day." 

Even  if  he  did  have  confidence,  others  did  not, 
and  raising  money  for  a  new  cable  was  no  easy  mat 
ter.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  a  better  chance  of 
success  than  ever  before.  Much  had  been  learned 
about  under- water  telegraphing;  better  steel  wire 
was  made;  and  the  Great  Eastern,  the  largest  steamer 
that  had  ever  sailed,  was  ready  to  become  the  cable 
ship.  The  trial  was  made,  but  this  time  some  of 
the  ship's  machinery  broke  down.  This  was  the 
fourth  failure. 

The  stockholders  met,  and  they  decided  to  send 
out  another  cable  the  following  summer,  1866,  and 
also  to  try  to  pick  up  the  lost  cable.  Mr.  Field  re 
turned  from  England.  When  the  passengers  on  the 
steamer  heard  that  he  was  on  board,  they  made 
ready  to  sympathize  with  him  in  his  disappoint 
ments;  but  they  had  no  chance,  for  he  was  "the 
most  cheerful  one  on  board."  They  tried  to  con 
dole,  but  he  replied  serenely,  "We  have  learned  a 
great  deal,  and  next  summer  we  shall  lay  the  cable 
without  doubt." 

They  did.  In  five  months  after  the  new  company 
was  formed,  the  cable  had  been  laid  by  the  Great 
Eastern  and  was  carrying  messages  across  the  ocean. 
The  cable  lost  in  1865  had  also  been  recovered. 
"Both  O.K.,"  the  operator  telegraphed.  Of  that 
moment  Mr.  Field  says,  "I  went  to  my  cabin,  I 
locked  the  door;  I  could  no  longer  restrain  my  tears 
—  crying  like  a  child,  and  full  of  gratitude  to  God." 


LAYER  OF  THE  ATLANTIC  CABLE 


LANDING  THE  ATLANTIC  CABLE  ON  NEWFOUNDLAND 

The  steamship  is  th2  Great  Eastern.  This  ship,  launched  in  1858,  was  the  larg 
est  of  her  time,  displacing  32,000  tons.  Her  best  record  across  the  Atlantic  was 
eleven  days.  The  largest  ships  of  the  present  time  (55,000  tons)  make  the  passage  in 
about  five  days. 

On  both  sides  of  the  ocean  were  ardent  hopes  that 
the  Atlantic  cable  would  bring  the  world  together 
and  prevent  all  future  wars.  Whittier  wrote  in  his 
Cable  Hymn: 

"And  one  in  heart,  as  one  in  blood, 

Shall  all  her  peoples  be; 
The  hands  of  human  brotherhood 
Are  clasped  beneath  the  sea." 

Congress  presented  Mr.  Field  with  a  gold  medal  and 
the  thanks  of  the  nation.  John  Bright,  the  English 
statesman,  declared  that  he  had  "moored  the  New 


78  CYRUS  W.  FIELD 

World  alongside  of  the  Old,"  which  some  disrespect 
ful  American  translated,  "He  has  hitched  the  British 
Isles  to  America." 

And  what  did  Mr.  Field  himself  do  while  all  the 
world  was  rejoicing  and  singing  his  praises?  He 
went  back  to  America  and  paid,  with  seven  per  cent 
interest,  every  dollar  due  to  his  creditors  of  1860. 


JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSIZ 

BELOVED  TEACHER  OF  SCIENCE 
1807-1873 

1860,  Agassiz  Museum  at  Harvard  dedicated 

THE  King  of  Bavaria  once  sent  some  scientists  to 
Brazil  to  collect  specimens  of  plants,  shells,  insects, 
and  fishes.  Before  the  books  describing  these  could 
be  prepared,  the  naturalist  died  who  was  to  have 
prepared  the  volume  on  fishes,  and  of  all  the  learned 
men  in  the  land  the  one  who  was  asked  to  write  the 
Latin  descriptions  of  the  fishes  and  edit  the  volume 
was  a  young  student  of  twenty-one  years  who  was 
working  for  his  degree  as  doctor  of  medicine.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  he  was  radiantly  happy,  especially 
as  he  knew  that  he  could  do  the  work  well. 

This  young  man  was  Louis  Agassiz,  and  he  was 
the  son  of  the  pastor  of  a  village  church  in  Switzer 
land.  His  parents  had  insisted  that  he  should  take 
a  medical  degree,  so  that  he  could  be  sure  of  a  living ; 
but  his  heart  was  in  natural  history.  Before  he  was 
seventeen  he  knew  every  beast,  bird,  and  fish  in  the 
vicinity.  He  had  not  been  able  to  buy  many  books, 
and  so  he  had  done  the  wisest  thing  in  the  world, 
namely,  he  had  spent  his  time  studying  the  animals 
themselves;  and  he  knew  them,  especially  the  fishes, 
so  thoroughly  that  when  at  last  he  had  free  access  to 
books,  he  was  surprised  to  find  so  little  that  was  new 
to  him. 

A  strenuous  time  the  next  two  years  must  have 


8o      JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSI Z 

been.  The  young  student  prepared  the  Brazilian 
Fishes,  and  joyfully  sent  a  copy  to  the  little  Swiss 
village.  "Will  it  not  seem  strange,"  he  wrote  home, 
"when  the  largest  and  finest  book  in  papa's  library 
is  one  written  by  his  Louis?  Will  it  not  be  as  good 
as  to  see  his  prescription  at  the  apothecary's?" 
Nevertheless  he  took  his  doctor's  degree,  and  with 
high  honors.  He  also  took  the  degree  of  doctor  of 
philosophy.  Two  years  later  he  became  a  Professor 
of  Natural  History  at  Neuchatel.  It  was  while  he 
was  at  Neuchatel  that  his  great  work  on  fossil  fishes 
came  out.  This  was  in  five  large  volumes  with  a  big 
atlas  of  four  hundred  plates. 

Agassiz  was  interested  in  everything  in  nature, 
and  he  was  quite  capable  of  leaving  a  chapter  on 
fishes  for  a  while  to  study  the  structure  of  a  moun 
tain  or  the  work  of  a  glacier.  He  had  a  friend,  who 
was  also  a  naturalist,  Jean  de  Charpentier,  and  this 
friend  had  a  theory.  Scattered  over  Switzerland  are 
great  boulders,  and  Charpentier  believed  they  had 
been  carried  on  glaciers  and  left  in  their  present 
places  when  the  ice  melted.  Agassiz  said  no,  and 
went  to  visit  his  friend  to  prove  that  this  was  a  mis 
take.  On  the  contrary,  he  himself  became  con 
vinced  that  Charpentier  was  right,  and  that  in  some 
remote  age  ice  had  swept  over  a  large  part  of  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  even  over  regions  that  have  now 
a  warm  climate.  Most  scientists  laughed  at  this 
theory.  One  declared  that  the  glacial  scratches  on 
the  rocks  about  Neuchatel  had  been  made  by  boys 
sliding  downhill! 


BELOVED  TEACHER  OF  SCIENCE      81 


A  MOUNTAIN  PASTURE  IN  SWITZERLAND 

Glaciers  are  shown  among  the  mountain  tops  in  the  foreground.  This  pic 
ture  gives  a  clue  to  the  character  of  the  country  in  which  Agassiz  did  his 
early  work. 

Agassiz  did  not  give  up  the  theory,  but  studied 
more  and  more  the  work  of  ice.  In  1840  he  built  a 
little  cabin  on  the  glacier  of  the  Aar,  and  here  he  and 
other  students  spent  six  summers.  The  snow  and 
rain  came  into  the  hut;  once  it  blew  over.  They 
were  cold  and  uncomfortable,  but  blissful.  They 


82      JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSIZ 

climbed  the  Jungfrau  and  stood  one  by  one  on  its 
two-foot  summit.  They  studied  glaciers  to  their 
hearts'  content,  and  Agassiz  had  himself  let  down 
by  ropes  into  the  very  heart  of  the  Aar  glacier;  and 
also  into  a  well  of  ice  water,  for  he  had  been  so  ab 
sorbed  in  studying  the  ice  that  he  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  water  below  it.  After  this  careful  study 
of  glaciers  no  scientist  could  doubt  his  theory  of  the 
"ice  age."  What  caused  it  is  another  matter;  and 
that  question  has  not  yet  been  answered. 

But  even  a  hut  on  a  glacier  costs  something.  To 
pay  artists  to  sketch  his  fossil  fishes  —  one  of  these 
artists,  on  a  regular  salary,  spent  seven  years  in 
England  sketching  from  the  collections  of  fossil  fishes 
in  that  country;  to  bring  out  illustrated  books,  and 
present  them  to  every  student  who  needed  them, 
but  could  not  afford  to  buy  them ;  to  pay  or  even  to 
board  his  assistants  and  to  care  for  his  wife  and 
children,  was  expensive.  His  friends  helped,  and 
sometimes  a  scientific  society  or  a  science-loving 
sovereign  helped ;  but  Agassiz  was  always  in  need  of 
money,  and  he  was  always  in  debt.  To  pay  these 
debts,  "serve  science,  and  at  the  same  time  Jive  in 
the  world,"  as  he  put  it,  he  must  earn  more  money. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  do  this  in  America? 

Agassiz  had  been  considering  this  question,  and 
so  had  his  friend  Humboldt.  The  older  scientist 
did  not  perhaps  realize  Agassiz's  ability  to  carry  on 
interest  in  several  lines  at  the  same  time.  He  was 
afraid  that  this  study  of  glaciers  was  taking  his  at 
tention  away  from  the  study  of  animals,  where  his 


BELOVED  TEACHER  OF  SCIENCE      83 

work  was  so  especially  valuable,  and  he  induced  the 
King  of  Prussia  to  offer  Agassiz  an  appointment 
to  go  to  America  to  compare  the  animal  life  of  the 
temperate  zones  of  that  country  and  Europe.  His 
salary  as  professor  was  to  be  continued  and  a  gener 
ous  sum  was  added  to  it  for  his  mission.  In  1846  he 
set  sail  for  Boston. 

His  name  was  well  known  on  this  side  of  the  ocean, 
and  even  before  sailing  he  was  engaged  to  give  a 
course  of  lectures  at  the  Lowell  Institute,  in  Boston. 
These  lectures  and  those  that  followed,  in  city  after 
city,  were  a  delight  to  his  audiences.  Agassiz  did 
not  speak  English  very  well,  but  he  was  so  inter 
ested  in  his  subject  that  when  he  could  not  think  of 
a  word,  he  was  not  embarrassed,  but  waited  till  it 
came,  so  happy  in  finding  it  that  his  hearers  were 
happy  with  him  and  never  out  of  patience.  If  the 
word  positively  refused  to  come,  he  could  express 
his  ideas  with  a  bit  of  chalk  and  a  blackboard. 

In  1848  an  invitation  came  to  Agassiz  from  Har 
vard  University  to  become  Professor  of  Zoology  and 
Geology  in  its  new  scientific  school.  There  was  as 
yet  no  museum,  and  he  set  to  work  to  make  one. 
He  wanted  something  quite  different  from  a  mere 
collection,  no  matter  how  full;  he  wanted  a  museum 
of  comparative  zoology,  a  collection  that  would 
show  the  relations  of  the  animals  to  one  another  and 
of  those  now  living  to  those  of  past  ages.  Every 
body  wanted  to  help.  The  fishermen  delighted  in 
bringing  him  everything  at  all  unusual  that  came  to 
their  nets.  Captains  of  whalers  and  coasting  ves- 


84      JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSIZ 

sels  carried  cans  of  alcohol  to  preserve  specimens  for 
him.  Every  one  was  glad  to  do  him  a  favor,  for 
every  one  loved  him.  Lowell  wrote, 

"Where'er 
He  met  a  stranger,  there  he  left  a  friend." 

Learned  men  did  not  send  him  their  "respects"  or 
their  "best  regards";  they  sent  their  "love."  He 
was  always  in  high  spirits,  always  charming,  ready 
to  talk  with  scholarly  scientists  about  geological  the 
ories,  or  to  play  games  with  little  children.  Those 
were  wonderful  days  in  Cambridge.  Think  of  the 
famous  Saturday  Club,  at  whose  dinners  sat  Longfel 
low,  Holmes,  Lowell,  Hawthorne,  Emerson,  Felton, 
Whittier,  Agassiz!  Every  one  knows  the  charming 
poem  which  Longfellow  read  on  Agassiz 's  fiftieth 
birthday,  beginning, 

"It  was  fifty  years  ago, 

In  the  pleasant  month  of  May, 
In  the  beautiful  Pays  de  Vaud 
A  child  in  its  cradle  lay. 

"And  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took 

The  child  upon  her  knee, 
Saying,  '  Here  is  a  story-book 

Thy  Father  has  written  for  thee."' 

When  Longfellow  came  to  the  last  verse, 

"And  the  mother  at  home  says,  'Hark! 

For  his  voice  I  listen  and  yearn; 
It  is  growing  cold  and  dark, 
And  my  boy  does  not  return ! ' "  — 

Agassiz  broke  down  completely.    Two  years  later  he 


BELOVED  TEACHER  OF  SCIENCE      85 

spent  the  summer  in  Europe,  nearly  all  of  it  with  his 
mother. 

Honors  came  to  him  thick  and  fast,  the  noblest 
being  an  invitation  from  the  French  Government  to 
take  the  highest  scientific  position  in  the  land;  but 
Agassiz  loved  the  United  States  and  his  work  on  this 
side  of  the  ocean,  and  he  declined. 

The  United  States  appreciated  him.  Wealthy 
men  arranged  scientific  trips  for  him  to  different 
parts  of  America,  to  Lake  Superior,  Florida,  Brazil, 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  Straits  of  Magellan;  and 
everywhere  he  found  new  treasures  and  new  de 
lights.  When  he  started  for  Brazil,  Holmes  wrote, 

"It  thrills  the  spinal  column 
Of  fossil  fishes  solemn, 
And  glaciers  crawl  the  faster 
To  the  feet  of  their  old  master!" 

and  ended, 

"God  bless  the  great  professor, 
And  the  land  his  proud  possessor." 

In  1859,  the  year  that  he  went  to  Europe,  the 
corner-stone  of  the  Museum  of  Comparative  Zo 
ology  was  laid,  and  he  was  a  happy  man.  His 
children  had  come  to  him  from  Europe.  A  second 
marriage  —  his  first  wife  had  died  some  years 
earlier  —  had  given  him  a  home  again.  The  wise 
and  gracious  woman  who  had  become  his  wife  had 
taken  the  question  of  finances  into  her  own  hands, 
and  had  opened  a  school  for  young  ladies.  Of 
course  students  flocked  to  her  doors.  \Vho  would 
not  when  Agassiz  himself  was  teacher  of  science? 


86      JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSI Z 

Agassiz  loved  to  teach.  Far  above  all  his  aca 
demic  titles  he  prized  the  name  of  teacher.  He 
was  a  busy  man.  "How  can  any  one  wish  to  kill 
time?"  he  once  exclaimed.  "Please  give  me  the 
hours  which  you  say  are  a  bore  to  you,  and  I  will 
receive  them  as  the  most  precious  of  presents."  He 
never  had  an  extra  dollar  in  his  pocket,  but  he  "had 
not  the  time  to  make  money,"  he  said  when  an 
opportunity  was  offered  to  him. 

Agassiz 's  teaching  always  began  with  making 
sure  that  his  students  knew  how  to  use  their  eyes. 
One  of  them  says  that  on  his  arrival  at  the  labora 
tory,  the  Professor  took  out  a  fish  from  some  bad- 
smelling  alcohol  and  laid  it  before  him,  telling  him 
to  study  it.  He  studied  ten  minutes,  one  hour,  two 
hours,  all  the  afternoon;  but  when  the  Professor 
came  and  heard  what  the  student  had  to  report,  he 
looked  disappointed  and  said,  "But  you  have  not 
looked  very  carefully.  Look  again,  look  again." 
In  the  morning  the  Professor  heard  what  the  stu 
dent  had  seen,  and  this  time  he  said,  "  That  is  good  "; 
but  when  the  rather  elated  young  man  asked,  "And 
what  shall  I  do  next?"  he  received  the  reply,  "Just 
study  your  fish."  Three  days  more  of  study  of 
that  wretched  fish,  and  he  had  learned  to  look. 

Agassiz  was  always  in  need  of  money  for  his  plans, 
but  he  could  get  appropriations  from  the  Massa 
chusetts  Legislature  when  every  one  else  failed. 
When  he  asked  for  money  for  the  Museum,  two 
farmer  members  were  overheard  discussing  the 
matter.  "I  don't  know  much,"  said  one,  "about 


BELOVED  TEACHER  OF  SCIENCE      87 

the  value  of  this  Museum  as  a  means  of  education, 
but  of  one  thing  I  am  certain  —  that  if  we  give 
Agassiz  the  money,  he  will  not  make  a  dollar  by  it." 
When  a  summer  school  by  the  ocean  was  proposed, 
he  went  straight  to  the  Legislature.  His  appeal 


Courtesy  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology,  Cambridge 

ONE  OF  THE  ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM  AGASSIZ 's  " FOSSIL  FISHES" 

This  represents  the  fish  of  which  the  scientific  name  is  Semiphorus  velifer.  At  one 
time  this  fish  was  supposed  to  be  related  to  the  Horse  Mackerels,  but  the  best 
authorities  to-day  consider  it  the  type  of  an  extinct  family.  The  locality  around 
Verona,  Italy,  is  famous  for  these  fossils;  they  date  from  the  Eocene  period,  which 
was  millions  of  years  ago.  In  this  picture  the  fish  is  reduced  to  about  one  eighth 
its  size. 


was  published,  and  John  Anderson,  a  wealthy  mer 
chant  of  New  York,  offered  him  the  little  island 
Penikese,  in  Buzzard's  Bay,  and  a  gift  of  $50,000 
for  fitting  out  the  school.  The  buildings  already  on 
the  island  were  a  house  and  a  barn ;  and  in  the  barn 
as  a  lecture-room  the  teacher  and  his  students 
gathered  together.  Long  before  this  Agassiz  had 


88      JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSIZ 

said,  "I  never  make  the  preparations  for  penetrat 
ing  into  some  small  province  of  Nature,  hitherto 
undiscovered,  without  breathing  a  prayer  to  the 
Being  who  hides  His  secrets  from  me  only  to  allure 
me  graciously  on  to  the  unfolding  of  them."  As  he 
now  stood  before  his  students  in  the  great  barn, 
with  swallows  flying  about  overhead,  little  waves 
lapping  on  the  shore,  and  sea-gulls  sweeping  down 
to  their  nests  among  the  pebbles  along  the  beach, 
then,  as  Whittier  words  it  in  his  poem, 

"Said  the  Master  to  the  youth, 
'We  have  come  in  search  of  truth, 
Trying  with  uncertain  key 
Door  by  door  of  mystery. 

On  the  threshold  of  our  task 
Let  us  light  and  guidance  ask, 
Let  us  pause  in  silent  prayer!'" 

Agassiz  had  already  shown  signs  of  serious 
nervous  breakdown,  and  not  many  months  after  the 
summer  at  Penikese  the  end  came.  He  lies  buried 
in  beautiful  Mount  Auburn.  At  the  head  of  his 
grave  stands  a  boulder  brought  from  the  glacier  of 
the  Aar,  near  where  his  hut  once  stood.  It  is  shaded 
by  pine-trees  which  came  from  his  beloved  home  in 
Switzerland. 

Another  memorial  is  the  great  Museum  of  Com 
parative  Zoology,  in  Cambridge.  When  Agassiz 
first  entered  upon  his  professorship  at  Harvard 
University,  the  specimens  which  he  was  so  rapidly 
collecting  were  kept  in  a  tumbledown  shanty  resting 


BELOVED  TEACHER  OF  SCIENCE      89 

on  four  piles  in  the  Charles  River.  The  roof  leaked, 
and  the  walls  threatened  to  drop  to  pieces;  but  here 
the  collection  grew.  Before  long  it  was  stored  in  an 
old  building  on  the  college  grounds,  and  the  college 
appropriated  a  small  sum  each  year  for  its  care. 
This  was  not  nearly  enough,  and  Agassiz  was  happy 
when  a  legacy  of  $50,000  was  left  for  the  establish 
ment  of  such  a  museum  as  he  wished.  Other  gifts 
were  made  by  private  parties,  by  the  University, 
and  by  the  State.  In  1860  the  Museum  was  dedi 
cated.  To  Agassiz's  son  had  been  given  the  posi 
tion  of  "Agent,"  or  business  manager  of  the  Mu 
seum  with  special  care  of  the  Radiates.  Specimens 
came  in  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  They  must  be 
cared  for  and  arranged,  and  exchanges  with  other 
museums  must  be  attended  to.  When  Agassiz 
died,  in  1873,  he  could  feel  that  already  the  Museum 
was  in  some  departments  the  first  in  the  world. 

Alexander,  his  son,  was  determined  that  his 
father's  hopes  should  be  realized,  that  a  museum 
should  be  built  up  which  "would  above  all  things 
furnish  facilities  for  original  investigation  and  ad 
vanced  work."  His  own  contributions  amounted 
to  more  than  $1,500,000,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  for  many  years,  badly  as 
this  interfered  with  his  own  scientific  studies  and 
business  affairs. 

The  Museum  building  has  developed  from  a  single 
edifice  to  a  structure  covering  three  sides  of  a  square 
and  with  a  frontage  of  nearly  four  hundred  feet. 
Of  the  collection  itself,  Wallace,  the  famous  Eng- 


90      JEAN  LOUIS  RODOLPHE  AGASSIZ 

lish  naturalist,  declared  some  years  ago  that  "as  an 
educational  institution  for  the  public,  for  students, 
and  for  the  special  investigator,"  the  "Agassiz 
Museum,"  as  people  rightfully  insist  upon  calling 
it,  was  superior  to  the  British  Museum. 

But  neither  the  great  Museum  in  Cambridge  nor 
Agassiz's  long  list  of  invaluable  works,  published  in 
English,  French,  and  Latin,  has  been  of  such  service 
to  our  country  as  the  influence  of  the  man  himself. 
He  was  the  ideal  teacher,  and  he  taught  not  only 
those  who  gathered  in  his  laboratory  or  listened  to 
his  lectures,  but  the  nation  as  a  whole.  From  New 
England  to  California  he  aroused  a  taste  for  scien 
tific  study,  and  he  showed  how  that  taste  might  be 
nobly  gratified.  He  taught  how  to  study  Nature, 
how  to  love  her  intelligently,  how  to  reverence  every 
created  object  as  an  expression  of  the  thought  of  the 
Creator.  However  far  our  students  may  progress 
in  science,  they  will  never  find  that  the  methods 
learned  from  Agassiz  are  obsolete  or  outworn,  for 
they  are  founded  upon  truth  itself. 


JULIA  WARD  HOWE 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  "  BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE 
REPUBLIC  " 

1819-1910 

1 86 1,  wrote  the  "Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  " 

IF  ever  a  child  was  brought  up  with  strict  regard  to 
proper  behavior  and  training  and  instruction,  it 
was  the  little  Julia  Ward,  of  New  York,  or  "Miss 
Ward,"  as  she  was  called  almost  from  her  babyhood. 

She  must  have  been  a  most  obedient  little  lady, 
according  to  a  story  which  she  herself  tells.  "We 
are  going  to  call  on  an  Indian  chief  this  afternoon," 
said  her  mother,  "and  you  must  remember  to  be 
very  polite  to  him."  They  drove  to  the  Indian 
encampment,  the  little  four-year-old  Miss  Ward 
keeping  fast  hold  of  a  big  twist  of  tobacco  tied  with 
a  blue  ribbon,  which  she  was  to  present  to  the 
chief.  She  was  bent  upon  doing  everything  she 
could  to  please  him,  and  when  the  tall,  dignified 
Red  Jacket  came  to  the  carriage,  she  threw  her 
arms  around  his  neck.  She  was  deeply  grieved 
afterwards  when  she  was  told  that  this  was  not 
quite  according  to  Indian  customs.  What  Red 
Jacket  thought  of  her  greeting  has  never  been 
known. 

Little  Miss  Ward's  father  educated  his  children 
with  the  utmost  care.  They  were  first  taught  at 
home  by  governesses  and  masters;  but  when  the 


92  JULIA  WARD  HOWE 

child  was  nine  years  old  her  dolls  were  taken  away 
from  her,  for  "Miss  Ward  is  now  too  old  for  dolls," 
she  was  told,  and  she  was  sent  to  school.  School  in 
those  days  was  in  great  degree  a  place  for  memo 
rizing  various  books.  The  little  girl  had  a  good 
memory,  and  therefore  she  was  put  into  a  class 
using  —  or  rather  learning  to  recite  verbatim  —  Pa- 
ley's  Moral  Philosophy!  It  is  no  wonder  that  in 
contrast  the  study  of  languages  seemed  to  her  a 
delightful  occupation. 

The  best  of  music-teachers  were  engaged  by 
Mr.  Ward,  and,  expressly  in  view  of  the  benefit  to 
his  children,  he  bought  a  number  of  the  best  paint 
ings  that  could  be  found  in  New  York.  He  was  so 
afraid  of  the  effects  of  fashionable  society  on  young 
people  that  the  Ward  children's  only  outings  were 
the  festivities  at  the  home  of  their  grandfather.  A 
dancing-teacher  came  to  the  house,  but  they  were 
never  allowed  to  attend  dancing-school  with  other 
children. 

The  home  of  the  Wards  was  a  meeting-place  for 
literary  folk.  It  was  charming  with  good  music, 
brilliant  conversation,  and  delightful  people;  but 
the  daughter  saw  little  of  general  society  until  two 
years  after  her  father's  death.  Then  came  a  season 
of  social  life,  and  after  that  a  visit  to  Boston,  a 
momentous  visit,  for  here  she  met  Dr.  Howe,  whom 
she  afterwards  married.  She  had  been  carefully 
shielded  from  scenes  of  suffering,  and  had  lived  in 
a  little  world  of  books  and  study  and  music  and 
interesting  people;  but  Dr.  Howe  was  intensely 


*~LS4- 


PORTRAIT  AND  AUTOGRAPH  OF  JULIA  WARD  HOWE 

With  a  facsimile  of  several  lines  from  "The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic. 
The  reproduction  of  the  handwriting  is  slightly  smaller  than  the  original 


94  JULIA  WARD  HOWE 

eager  to  be  of  service  to  all  who  were  in  need,  and 
she  soon  began  to  realize  the  many  calls  for  help 
and  sympathy. 

During  the  first  year  of  the  Civil  War  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Howe  made  a  journey  to  Washington.  That 
was  the  time  when  the  Confederate  forces  were  so 
near  that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  kept  en 
camped  between  them  and  the  capital.  The  air 
was  full  of  war.  Soldiers  were  guarding  the  rail 
roads;  four-horse  ambulances  were  rushing  through 
the  streets;  officers  and  orderlies  were  galloping  at 
full  speed  from  point  to  point.  Thousands  of  men 
had  offered  their  lives  to  help  save  the  Union,  and 
she  was  doing  nothing.  What  could  she  do?  She 
could  not  leave  her  little  children  to  go  to  the  hos 
pitals,  even  if  she  had  had  skill  in  nursing.  She 
knew  well  that  many  a  woman  with  only  half  her 
intellectual  ability  could  accomplish  far  more  than 
she  in  the  practical  work  of  making  ready  and  pack 
ing  the  sanitary  stores  so  greatly  needed.  She  said 
to  herself  sadly,  "You  would  gladly  help,  but  there 
is  nothing  that  you  can  do." 

With  such  thoughts  as  these  she  went  one  day  to 
see  a  review  of  United  States  troops.  Suddenly,  a 
command  was  given,  and  the  review  was  broken  off. 
The  Confederates  had  made  an  unexpected  move, 
and  the  regiments  were  ordered  to  return  to  their 
cantonments.  The  roads  were  full  of  marching 
troops,  and  the  carriage  of  the  Howes  and  their 
friends  had  to  go  at  a  snail's  pace.  It  was  a  slow 
and  wearisome  drive,  and  to  make  it  seem  shorter 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC    95 

they  sang  one  after  another  of  the  war  songs  of  the 
day.  The  soldiers  were  appreciative.  "Good  for 
you!  Good  for  you!"  they  shouted.  Last  of  all, 
the  air  rang  with 

"John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave, 
His  soul  is  marching  on." 

" That's  a  stirring  tune,"  said  one  of  the  party  to 
Mrs.  Howe.  "Why  don't  you  write  some  good 
words  for  it?" 

"  I  have  often  wished  to  do  so,"  she  replied. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  used  to  say  that  he  did  his 
work  while  he  was  asleep,  and  this  is  what  Mrs. 
Howe  must  have  done;  for  that  night,  in  the  early 
gray  of  the  morning,  she  woke  and,  as  she  said, 
"The  long  lines  of  the  desired  poem  began  to  twine 
themselves  in  my  mind."  She  scrawled  them  in  the 
twilight,  hardly  looking  at  the  paper.  As  she  went 
back  to  her  bed,  she  said  to  herself,  "I  like  this 
better  than  most  things  that  I  have  written"  — 
which  was  mild  praise  for  the  glorious  Battle  Hymn 
of  the  Republic. 

The  "Hymn"  was  published  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly,  and  soon  it  was  sung  in  the  camps  and 
even  in  Libby  Prison.  It  is  a  stern  and  rousing  call 
to  battle,  to  warfare  in  the  cause  of  freedom  and 
justice  and  the  everlasting  right.  No  army  sent 
out  to  strive  for  lands  or  wealth  or  military  glory 
could  ever  march  forth  singing  that  song. 

One  of  the  author's  friends  said,  "She  ought  to 
die  now,  for  she  has  done  the  best  she  will  ever  do." 


96  JULIA  WARD  HOWE 

Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Howe  did  not  die,  but  lived  half 
a  century  longer,  interested  wherever  she  thought 
reform  was  needed  —  in  woman  suffrage,  prison 
management,  and  the  peace  of  the  world.  She 
wrote,  lectured,  preached,  presided  over  important 
meetings.  She  was  a  power  for  good  wherever  she 
went.  Her  other  work  will  never  lack  appreciation, 
but  it  is  the  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  which  has 
touched  most  deeply  the  hearts  of  the  whole  Ameri 
can  people. 


GEORGE  THORNDIKE  ANGELL 

KNIGHT  OF  KINDNESS  TO  ANIMALS 
1820-1909 

1868,  organized  the  Massachusetts  S.P.C.A. 

IN  1846  a  young  man  in  Vermont  said  good-bye  to 
his  mother—  "No  man  ever  had  a  better  mother/* 
he  wrote  of  her  in  later  years  —  and  climbed  into 
the  night  stage  on  his  way  to  Boston.  He  had  been 
left  fatherless  when  a  boy,  but  his  mother  was  bent 
upon  his  going  to  college,  and  by  the  efforts  of  both 
he  had  just  graduated  from  Dartmouth.  He  had 
tried  in  vain  to  find  employment.  No  one  seemed 
to  need  him,  and  now  he  was  setting  out  for  Boston 
to  see  what  he  could  do  there. 

•  He  wanted  to  study  law  and  to  support  himseli 
while  he  was  about  it.  A  good  uncle  offered  him  a 
home  and  a  place  in  his  law  office;  a  cousin  helped 
him  to  get  a  position  to  teach,  and  offered  him  the 
use  of  his  law  library.  The  way  was  now  open, 
nothing  but  hard  work  was  needed,  and  this  he  was 
more  than  willing  to  supply.  For  three  years  he 
taught  days  and  studied  nights  and  vacations.  He 
must  have  managed  his  finances  as  economically  as 
his  time,  for  during  those  three  years  he  paid  with 
interest  the  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  that  he  had 
borrowed  while  in  college,  helped  support  his  mother 
and  saved  about  twelve  hundred  dollars.  He  was 
a  capitalist  now,  and  could  give  all  his  time  to 


98        GEORGE  THORNDIKE  ANGELL 

studying  law!  Two  years  later  he  was  admitted  to 
the  bar.  For  twenty-three  years  he  devoted  him 
self  to  law.  He  was  able  to  provide  his  mother  with 
everything  that  she  desired  and  to  lay  up  a  comfort 
able  amount  of  money. 

Mr.  Angell  had  unusual  ability  to  secure  the  rights 
of  his  clients  and  at  the  same  time  to  win  the  friend 
ship  of  their  adversaries.  A  certain  famous  musi 
cian  was  always  in  debt,  and  often  when  he  ap 
peared  in  Boston  Mr.  Angell  was  engaged  to  collect 
claims  against  him.  When  the  last  claim  had  been 
paid,  the  musician  presented  him  with  tickets  for 
the  whole  opera  season,  shook  hands  in  friendly 
fashion,  and  said,  "Now,  Mr.  Angell,  if  you  ever 
have  another  claim  against  me,  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me,  so  that  I  can  run  away." 

Some  of  Mr.  Angell's  legal  methods  were  as  orig 
inal  as  they  were  effective.  A  Chicago  lawyer  had 
collected  a  large  sum  of  money  belonging  to  an 
estate  which  the  Boston  lawyer  was  settling,  and  ap 
parently  the  Chicago  man  had  no  idea  of  forwarding 
the  money.  Mr.  Angell  wrote  that  he  would  wait 
a  certain  number  of  days.  If  the  money  had  not 
then  come  to  hand,  he  should  write  to  every  member 
of  the  Chicago  bar,  asking  if  they  could  give  him 
any  advice  about  how  to  collect  it.  The  money 
came.  He  could  fight,  and  fight  hard,  if  he  had  to; 
but  he  always  preferred  settling  difficulties  peace 
ably  if  he  could. 

This  busy  lawyer  was  doing  his  best  to  secure 
justice  for  people;  but  he  was  realizing  more  and 


KNIGHT  OF  KINDNESS  TO  ANIMALS    99 

nore  that  some  of  these  same  people  were  often 
treating  animals  with  injustice  and  cruelty.  He 
had  always  been  very  fond  of  animals  —  dogs, 
horses,  cats,  cattle,  sheep,  birds.  One  of  the  earliest 
remembrances  of  his  boyhood  was  of  being  reproved 
for  stopping  on  his  way  to  church  to  pat  a  stray  dog. 
Now  when  people  went  to  meeting  in  the  eighteen- 
twenties,  they  were  expected  to  put  on  their  best 
clothes  and  proceed  to  the  church  with  soberness 
and  decorum;  they  were  not  expected  to  stop  and 
pat  dogs.  "Come,  George.  What  will  people 
think  of  you?"  asked  the  small  boy's  mother,  and 
he  obeyed,  but  rather  unwillingly,  it  is  to  be  sup 
posed. 

Whenever  Mr.  Angell  had  seen  any  one  being 
cruel  to  an  animal  he  had  always  interfered ;  but  he 
had  heard  of  many  cases  of  cruelty  when  it  was  too 
late  to  interfere;  what  could  he  do? 

First  of  all,  he  made  his  will.  He  believed  that 
the  way  to  have  the  world  full  of  kind  people  was 
to  teach  the  boys  and  girls  to  be  kind;  so  he  willed 
that  a  large  share  of  his  property  should  go  to  dis 
tribute  in  schools  and  Sunday  Schools  books  and 
pamphlets  about  the  rights  of  animals,  how  to  treat 
them  properly,  and  how  to  make  friends  of  them. 

This  was  good  as  far  as  it  went,  but  he  became 
more  and  more  unwilling  to  sit  by  and  do  nothing 
while  animals  were  suffering  so  terribly.  Young 
calves  were  carted  through  the  streets  of  Boston 
"piled  on  each  other  like  sticks  of  wood."  Sheep 
that  had  been  sheared  waited,  half  frozen,  in  the 


ioo      GEORGE  THORN  DIKE  ANGELL 

slaughter-yards,  sometimes  for  a  number  of  days, 
before  they  were  killed.  "  A  man  in  my  town,"  said 
Mr.  Angell,  "who  had  mortgaged  his  stock  of  cattle 
to  another,  quarreled  with  him,  locked  the  stable 
doors,  and  starved  them  all  to  death  in  their  stalls 
to  prevent  his  getting  his  pay."  Every  one  knows 
what  would  be  done  with  such  a  man  to-day.  The 
matter  would  be  reported  to  the  S.P.C.A.  and  he 
would  be  promptly  prosecuted  and  punished.  But 
at  that  time  there  was  no  S.P.C.A.  in  the  State. 
What  then  could  be  done?  Just  nothing  at  all.  A 
man  could  be  as  cruel  as  he  chose,  and  there  was  no 
law  in  Massachusetts  to  punish  him. 

There  was  a  man  in  Massachusetts,  however,  who 
knew  what  laws  there  ought  to  be,  and  before  long 
something  happened  which  made  him  too  indignant 
to  remain  quiet  any  longer.  This  "something"  was 
a  race  between  two  of  the  best  horses  in  the  State. 
They  were  driven  from  Brighton  to  Worcester, 
forty  miles,  over  rough  roads,  each  drawing  two 
men;  and  both  horses  were  driven  to  death.  When 
Mr.  Angell  read  the  account  of  this  in  the  paper,  he 
said  to  himself,  "Somebody  ought  to  take  hold  of 
this  business,"  and  added,  "and  I  might  as  well  as 
anybody." 

He  wrote,  over  his  own  name,  a  letter  to  the  daily 
paper  in  which  the  account  of  the  race  had  appeared, 
saying  that  it  was  high  time  to  stop  such  cruelty  to 
animals.  He  knew  that  in  New  York  two  years 
earlier  Mr.  Henry  Bergh  had  founded  a  "Society 
for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,"  and  had 


KNIGHT  OF  KINDNESS  TO 


succeeded  in  having  it  incorporated.  People  had 
opposed  him  and  laughed  at  him  and  sworn  at  him, 
had  ruined  his  clothes  and  thrown  filth  in  his  face, 
but  he  had  persisted,  and  this  Boston  friend  of  the 
helpless  intended  to  persist.  "I,  for  one,"  he  said 
in  his  letter,  "am  ready  to  contribute  both  time  and 
money."  He  declared  also  that  he  would  be  glad  to 
unite  with  any  others  who  were  interested  in  the 
matter.  This  came  out  in  the  morning  paper,  and 
before  noon  six  prominent  people  of  Boston  had 
called  upon  him  and  letters  had  come  from  three 
others.  A  few  weeks  later,  in  March,  1868,  the 
Massachusetts  S.P.C.A.  was  organized. 

No  one  who  is  not  a  bully  and  a  coward  will  hurt 
an  animal  that  is  in  his  power;  but  since  there  are 
bullies  and  cowards  in  the  world,  strong  laws  to 
protect  animals  are  necessary.  The  first  things  to 
be  done  were  to  get  such  laws  passed,  increase  the 
membership  of  the  Society,  and  secure  funds  to 
work  with.  Some  bright  man  suggested  that  there 
were  excellent  men  on  the  police  force  who  could 
perhaps  be  spared  for  a  while  to  canvass  the  city. 
The  mayor  and  the  chief  of  police  were  approached, 
and  they  permitted  seventeen  officers,  all  in  their 
best  uniforms,  to  go  from  house  to  house,  telling 
people  about  the  new  Society  and  asking  for  con 
tributions  and  members.  This  was  a  fine  stroke  of 
business,  for  many  listened  to  men  in  the  city's  uni 
form  who  would  have  turned  away  from  any  one 
else.  The  result  was  twelve  hundred  new  members 
and  thirteen  hundred  dollars  added  to  the  treasurv. 


.,•$03.;    GEORGE  THORNDIKE  ANGELL 

The  Society  was  now  six  weeks  of  age,  old  enough 
to  publish  a  paper,  its  founder  thought,  and  two 
weeks  later  the  first  number  of  Our  Dumb  Animals 
came  out,  and  two  hundred  thousand  copies  were 
distributed  throughout  Massachusetts.  In  1921 
its  circulation  was  nearly  fifty  thousand  a  month, 
and  it  had  subscribers  in  practically  every  country 
in  the  world. 

After  a  year  of  busy  work  Mr.  Angell  went  to 
Europe,  partly  for  rest  and  partly  to  visit  the  soci 
eties  for  the  protection  of  animals  and  to  do  what 
he  could  to  help  them.  Maybe  the  animals  them 
selves  recognized  their  friend.  At  any  rate,  he 
wrote  home  with  great  pleasure  that  while  visiting 
the  picture  galleries  of  Versailles,  he  went  for  dinner 
into  a  little  restaurant  outside  the  palace  grounds. 
His  table  had  places  for  four,  and  pretty  soon  a  big 
dog  took  the  place  on  his  right,  another  stood  op 
posite  him,  and  a  handsome  cat  quietly  seated  her 
self  in  the  chair  at  his  left.  "They  accepted  my 
hospitality,"  he  said,  "and  we  four  dined  pleasantly 
together." 

Mr.  Angell  gave  up  his  large  law  practice  and  went 
from  place  to  place,  founding  new  societies  and 
telling  of  the  work  to  whoever  would  listen.  Some 
people  listened  because  they  loved  animals  and  ap 
preciated  them.  Others  approved  of  his  efforts 
from  a  sense  of  justice.  Others  could  be  moved  by 
nothing  except  their  own  selfish  good.  They  cared 
nothing  for  the  sufferings  of  animals,  but  they  did 
care  if  they  themselves  were  in  danger  of  sickness 


Courtesy  of  Our  Dumb  Animals 

WORK  HORSES  ON  VACATION 

Mr.  Angell  's  work  for  the  humane  treatment  of  animals  led  to  the  establishmer.t 
of  the  Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals.  In  addition 
to  the  hospital  where  horses,  dogs,  cats  and  other  animals  can  be  sent  for  treatment: 
the  Society  maintains  at  Methuen,  Massachusetts,  a  Vacation  Farm  where  work 
horses  can  be  turned  out  to  pasture.  They  seem  to  enjoy  their  vacation  quite  as 
much  as  people  do. 


GEORGE  THORNDIKE  ANGELL 

from  eating  the  flesh  of  an  animal  that  had  suf 
fered.  Still  others  looked  upon  the  whole  business 
as  sentimentality,  and  a  fine  subject  for  their  silly 
jesting. 

In  1873  he  asked  permission  to  address  the  Con 
vention  of  Massachusetts  Teachers  to  meet  in  Wor 
cester.  The  president  replied  cordially,  but  when 
Mr.  Angell  reached  the  hall  he  was  kept  waiting 
until  9  P.M.  Then,  when  the  people  were  putting 
on  their  wraps  to  leave,  it  was  announced  that  ua 
gentleman  wishes  to  address  the  convention  on 
cruelty  to  animals."  The  audience  had  been  listen 
ing  to  lectures  and  addresses  all  day  long,  and  now 
they  were  invited  to  stay  another  hour  and  listen  to 
some  unknown  man  about  cruelty  to  animals!  They 
shouted  with  laughter  from  one  end  of  the  hall  to 
the  other. 

Mr.  Angell  was  thoroughly  aroused.  He  told 
them  that  Agassiz,  greatest  of  their  profession, 
firmly  believed  in  the  immortality  of  animals.  He 
told  them  of  the  dangers  they  themselves  were  run 
ning  of  eating  diseased  meat.  Then  he  showed  that 
the  cruel  child  is  likely  to  become  the  criminal  man, 
and  told  them  that  it  was  their  work,  as  teachers  in 
the  public  schools,  to  save  the  boys  and  girls  in  their 
care  from  such  a  fate.  Perhaps  he  spoke  all  the 
better  for  his  indignation.  At  any  rate,  people  lis 
tened  till  the  very  last  word. 

Every  case  of  cruelty  that  is  reported  to  the 
M.S.P.C.A.  is  investigated  immediately.  Animals 
too  feeble  to  work  are  humanely  destroyed.  Men 


KNIGHT  OF  KINDNESS  TO  ANIMALS     105 

who  are  persistently  cruel  are  prosecuted ;  and  prose 
cution  by  the  M.S.P.C.A.  is  pretty  sure  to  be  fol 
lowed  by  conviction  and  punishment.  A  recent 
report  of  "the  Society"  for  a  single  month  reads, 
"Prosecutions  for  cruelty,  33;  convictions,  31." 

Mr.  Angell  established  Bands  of  Mercy  among 
children.  The  motto  of  these  Bands  is,  "I  will  try 
to  be  kind  to  all  living  creatures  and  try  to  protect 
them  from  cruel  usage."  Already,  128,444  have 
been  formed. 

Mr.  Angell's  work  was  not  limited  to  care  for 
animals.  He  fought  for  kindness  to  children,  for 
pure  food,  for  cooking  utensils  whose  enamel  was 
not  made  of  poisonous  materials,  and  for  many 
other  good  causes.  He  was  always  ready  wherever 
a  helping  hand  was  needed.  He  lived  until  he  was 
eighty-six  years  old,  and  he  was  as  enthusiastic  in 
his  last  days  as  when  he  began  his  work.  Often  in 
the  night  he  thought  of  so  many  things  that  ought 
to  be  said  or  done  that  he  would  sit  up  in  bed  and 
make  notes  by  the  dim  glow  of  the  night  lamp  cf 
what  must  be  done  on  the  following  day  or  said  in 
his  next  address. 

One  of  his  dreams  was  of  a  hospital  where  suf 
fering  animals  could  be  wisely  and  kindly  cared  for; 
and  after  his  death  the  Angell  Memorial  Hospital 
was  built  in  Boston,  a  hospital  which  is  just  as  com 
plete  in  its  arrangements  as  any  hospital  for  people. 
It  was  opened  in  1915,  and  in  the  first  five  years  of 
its  existence  nearly  forty  thousand  animals  were 
treated,  half  of  this  number  in  the  free  dispensary. 


LUTHER  BURBANK 

PLANT- BREEDER 
1849- 

1875,  perfected  the  "Burbank  Potato" 

LUTHER  BURBANK  when  a  young  man  spent  some 
little  time  in  his  uncle's  machine  shop  in  Worcester, 
Massachusetts.  He  did  not  like  it  so  well  as  out 
door  life,  but  he  did  his  best;  and  his  "best"  was  to 
invent  a  machine  that  enabled  him,  doing  piece 
work,  to  make  from  ten  to  sixteen  dollars  a  day  in 
stead  of  the  half-dollar  that  he  had  been  receiving. 
Now  came  the  struggle.  He  loved  flowers  and 
plants,  and  he  felt  sure  that  the  life-work  of  his 
choice  would  be  among  them.  His  friends,  how 
ever,  were  equally  sure  that  he  could  become  a  rich 
inventor.  Which  should  it  be?  He  decided  in 
favor  of  plants.  He  left  the  factory  and  set  to  work 
on  a  bit  of  ground  belonging  to  his  family,  raising 
vegetables  for  market;  but  he  did  much  more  than 
to  plant  and  cultivate  and  sell,  for  he  studied  the 
plants  and  thought  about  them  and  about  what  he 
believed  they  could  be  led  to  do. 

Among  his  vegetables  he  raised  some  Early  Rose 
potatoes.  This  had  been  an  excellent  potato,  but 
it  seemed  to  have  run  out.  Indeed,  potatoes  in  gen 
eral  were  becoming  so  poor  that  some  people  thought 
there  would  be  a  potato  famine  before  many  years 
had  passed.  The  Early  Rose  had  never  been 


PLANT-BREEDER  107 

known  to  bear  seed-balls,  but  one  day  the  gardener 
found  on  a  plant  a  single  ball.  Now,  if  the  eye  of  a 
potato  is  planted,  the  same  variety  will  be  raised; 
but  if  the  seed  is  planted,  the  result  is  quite  different. 
There  was  a  chance  that  he  might  get  a  much  better 
potato  than  the  Early  Rose. 

He  did;  he  got  the  famous  "Burbank  potato." 
A  great  deal  of  money  was  made  out  of  it,  but  not 
by  Burbank  himself,  for  he,  like  Agassiz,  "had  not 
time  to  make  money."  He  gave  his  product  freely 
to  the  world.  The  humble  potato  was  a  princely 
gift,  for,  according  to  a  member  of  the  Department 
of  Agriculture,  the  income  of  American  farmers  is 
$17,000,000  a  year  greater  because  of  this  plant.  He 
sold  his  discovery  to  a  seedsman,  and  with  the  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars  that  he  received,  he  went  to 
California. 

Before  long  his  money  was  gone.  He  was  sick 
and  lonely,  and  the  young  man  who,  as  time  would 
prove,  had  given  millions  to  the  world  was  almost 
starving.  A  kind  woman,  richer  than  he  in  that  she 
owned  a  cow,  offered  him  a  pint  of  milk  a  day,  all 
that  she  could  spare  from  her  children.  He  refused 
for  fear  he  would  never  be  able  to  pay  her.  She  in 
sisted,  and  perhaps  saved  his  life. 

For  a  year  he  did  any  kind  of  work  that  would 
give  him  food  and  a  place  to  sleep,  but  after  a  while 
he  was  able  to  get  a  bit  of  land  to  work  on  and  carry 
out  his  idea.  It  was  a  very  definite  idea,  namely, 
to  make  the  food  of  the  world  better  and  more  plen 
tiful. 


io8  LUTHER  BURBANK 

He  was  not  aiming  at  making  money.  "  No  man 
ever  did  a  great  work  for  hire,"  he  declared  in  later 
years;  but  he  needed  money  in  order  to  carry  on  his 
work.  Before  long  his  opportunity  came.  A  man 
wanted  to  set  out  a  prune  orchard  of  twenty  thou 
sand  trees,  and  he  wanted  them  in  nine  months.  To 
grow  a  prune-tree  large  enough  to  plant  had  always 
taken  two  or  three  years.  Much  to  the  surprise  of 
the  planter,  the  young  man  took  the  contract.  He 
knew  what  he  could  do,  and  he  knew  what  Nature 
would  do  if  she  were  given  a  chance.  The  almond 
was  the  fastest-growing  tree  that  would  answer  his 
purpose,  so  he  engaged  every  man  and  boy  that 
could  be  found  to  plant  almonds.  Just  as  soon  as 
the  young  trees  were  large  enough,  he  budded  them 
with  twenty  thousand  prune-buds.  At  the  end  of 
the  nine  months  the  prune-trees  were  ready;  and  the 
orchard  is  still  bearing  generously. 

At  length  the  nursery  began  to  pay,  and  in  1893 
he  could  count  upon  an  income  of  ten  thousand 
dollars  a  year.  Most  " level-headed"  men  would 
have  advised  him,  as  did  his  friends,  to  appreciate  a 
good  thing  when  he  had  it,  and  develop  the  business. 
Again  he  had  to  choose  between  money  and  work, 
and  again  he  chose  work,  real  work,  for  fourteen 
hours  a  day  is  his  average  working  time. 

Just  what  is  he  doing?  In  the  first  place  he  is  im 
proving  many  of  the  grasses,  trees,  vegetables,  and 
flowers  that  we  already  have;  and  in  the  second 
place,  he  is  developing  new  ones.  He  does  this  by 
breeding;  that  is,  by  uniting  plants  of  different 


PLANT-BREEDER 


109 


AN  EXPERIMENTAL  FARM  AND  ORCHARD 


Mr   Burbank's  pioneer  work  in  originating  new  varieties  of  plants  and  the  im 
provement  of  old  ones,  has  led  to  more  scientific  farming  on  the  part  of  individuals, 
and  the  establishment  of  agricultural  experiment  stations  at  various  state 
and  universities,  and  elsewhere. 

species  and  producing  new  ones  which  are  unlike 
them,  and  better.  The  stamens  of  a  flower  produce 
pollen,  and  the  wind  carries  it  to  the  pistil  of  some 
other  flower,  where  it  grows  and  forms  seeds.  Bees 


r  io  LUTHER  BURBANK 

gathering  pollen  for  honey  get  it  on  their  wings,  and 
when  they  go  to  the  next  flower,  it  rubs  off  on  the 
pistil,  and  seeds  are  formed.  Mr.  Burbank  gets  up 
as  early  as  the  bees  and  does  this  work  before  them, 
to  combine  the  best  qualities  of  various  superior 
plants  which  he  has  selected  for  the  purpose.  The 
seeds  are  planted,  and  from  hundreds  or  thousands 
of  the  little  plants,  he  selects  a  few,  sometimes  only 
one  or  two. 

This  breeding  and  selecting  does  not  sound  like  a 
particularly  difficult  thing  to  do,  and  it  is  not  —  for 
Mr.  Burbank.  He  seems  to  have  a  natural  under 
standing  of  plants  that  is  lacking  in  other  people. 
He  will  pass  by  five  hundred  with  scarcely  a  glance, 
and  fix  upon  one ;  and  that  one  will  be  the  only  one 
for  his  purpose.  He  never  works  blindly,  leaving  it 
to  chance  to  bring  forth  something  worth  while;  he 
always  has  a  definite  aim.  He  decides  how  a  plant 
can  be  improved,  and  then  goes  to  work  to  bring 
the  improvement  to  pass.  The  well-known  Shasta 
daisy  is  a  good  illustration  of  his  method,  and  of  his 
kindly  feeling  for  what  we  call  " weeds."  "There 
is  not  a  weed  alive,"  he  says,  "but  what  will  sooner 
or  later  respond  to  good  cultivation  and  persistent 
selection."  The  white  field  daisy  of  his  Massachu 
setts  home,  hated  by  farmers  because  it  does  not  suit 
the  taste  of  horses  and  cattle,  seems  to  have  been 
one  of  his  favorites.  At  any  rate,  he  meant  to  see 
what  could  be  done  to  give  it  a  long,  slender  stem, 
much  larger  blossoms,  and  rays  of  the  purest  white. 
The  Massachusetts  daisy  was  a  vagabond;  it  was 


PLANT-BREEDER  in 

not  easy  to  kill  it  out,  as  the  farmers  knew,  and  it 
was  small.  In  Japan  there  was  one  that  also  was 
small,  but  it  had  snow-white  rays.  In  England 
there  was  a  much  larger  daisy  with  an  especially 
strong  stem. 

These  three  he  combined;  then  patiently,  year 
after  year,  he  watched  and  worked,  choosing  each 
season  the  flowers  that  came  nearest  to  his  ideal. 
At  length  he  was  satisfied;  the  magnificent  Shasta 
daisy  was  a  success.  But  the  work  was  just  begun. 
He  would  not  sell  a  new  plant  until  he  had  made  it 
as  far  as  possible  climate-proof  and  "fool-proof." 
It  must  be  taught  to  flourish  in  heat  and  cold,  and 
with  only  the  indifferent  care  that  most  persons 
would  give  it.  This  was  accomplished,  and  then 
the  new  Shasta  daisy  was  ready  to  enter  the  polite 
world. 

But  many  people  who  know  the  Shasta  daisy,  the 
sweet-scented  verbena  and  calla  lily,  and  the  dahlia 
with  the  fragrance  of  the  magnolia,  have  heard  less 
about  Mr.  Burbank's  more  practical  work.  He 
never  forgets  his  aim  to  make  food  better  and 
cheaper,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  the  daisy,  he  sends  all 
over  the  world,  if  necessary,  for  plants  that  possess 
the  qualities  needed.  The  results  are  marvels. 
From  the  hardy  little  beach-plum,  bitter  and  worth 
less  unless  cooked,  he  has  produced  a  large,  sweet,  rich 
plum  without  bitterness,  and  as  ready  as  the  beach- 
plum  to  grow  in  any  soil,  no  matter  how  poor. 
He  has  grown  plums  without  stones;  the  canning 
cherry  which  thoughtfully  leaves  its  stone  on  the 


ii2  LUTHER  BURBANK 

tree;  the  quince  with  the  flavor  of  a  pineapple,  and 
mellow  enough  to  be  eaten  raw;  corn  which  bears 
many  ears  instead  of  one  or  two.  He  has  increased 
the  size  and  improved  the  quality  of  several  kinds 
of  nuts  and  almonds.  He  has  shown  plants  how  to 
do  their  work  better  and  faster  and  how  to  do  more 
of  it.  Cherries  can  now  be  raised  several  weeks 
earlier  than  formerly.  His  cross  between  an  Eng 
lish  walnut  and  a  California  walnut  has  resulted  in 
a  tree  that  produces  about  twelve  times  as  much 
timber,  valuable  hard  wood,  as  either  of  its  an 
cestors  could  have  done  in  the  same  time,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  great  yield  of  nuts.  He  has  per 
suaded  the  chestnut-tree  to  bear  nuts  when  only  a 
year  and  a  half  old. 

Mr.  Burbank  has  removed  briars  and  prickles, 
and  he  has  made  even  the  thorny  cactus  an  agree 
able  member  of  society.  It  was  juicy,  an  excellent 
food,  and  it  was  happy  growing  in  the  hot,  rainless 
desert;  but  it  was  covered  with  thorns;  and  no  one 
who  has  ever  had  the  experience  will  forget  how  it 
feels  to  take  hold  of  a  cactus  by  mistake.  Mr.  Bur- 
bank  chose  a  species  which  had  thorns  without 
number  and  leaves  containing  so  much  woody  fiber 
that  they  were  not  very  digestible.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  would  grow  in  the  heat  of  the  desert,  and 
would  also  endure  quite  severe  frosts.  With  this 
he  crossed  a  cactus  of  fewer  thorns,  another  of  less 
woody  fiber,  and  so  on.  He  bred  and  selected  until 
he  had  a  thornless  cactus  which  is  a  rich  food  for 
cattle.  Its  fruit  is  of  a  delicious  flavor  and  may  be 


PLANT-BREEDER  113 

eaten  fresh  or  preserved.  Moreover,  it  will  grow 
freely  upon  what  are  now  desert  lands. 

Mr.  Burbank  was  recently  asked  what  he  consid 
ered  his  most  important  accomplishment.  He  replied 
thoughtfully: 

1  The  '  Burbank  '  potato  was  the  first  thing  which 
I  introduced,  but  not  by  any  means  whatever  the 
most  important,  although  there  have  already  been 
enough  of  these  raised  to  load  a  freight  train  to 
reach  fourteen  thousand  miles.  Yet  the  forty  new 
kinds  of  plums  which  I  have  introduced  and  which 
are  shipped  by  the  million  boxes  East  each  season, 
and  my  new  commercial  grasses,  grains,  vegetables, 
trees,  berries,  and  hundreds  of  other  things  are  of 
infinitely  greater  importance  than  the  potato.  But 
among  such  a  multitude  it  is  impossible  to  tell  which 
is  the  most  important.  In  fact,  it  may  take  fifty  years 
yet  to  decide,  but  I  can  tell  you,  very  plainly  and 
very  briefly,  just  what  my  most  important  work  has 
been.  It  is  simply  this:  that  I  have  educated  the 
world  to  the  fact  that  plants  are  pliable  and  amen 
able  to  the  will  of  man  and  can  be  improved  be 
yond  the  dreams  of  any  of  the  older  growers,  thus 
making  it  possible  for  millions  to  inhabit  the  earth 
where  only  thousands  could  before." 

If  Mr.  Burbank  had  handled  his  creations  solely 
to  make  money,  he  would  long  ago  have  been  a 
multi-millionaire,  but  he  would  not  have  been  what 
he  would  call  a  successful  man;  that  is,  a  man  who 
aims  to  do,  as  the  old  saying  puts  it,  "all  the  good 
you  can  to  all  the  people  you  can." 


H4  LUTHER  BURBANK 

Of  course  every  one  who  goes  to  California  would 
like  to  see  Mr.  Burbank's  grounds,  and  even  more 
to  see  him.  Many  of  them  he  would  be  glad  to 
meet,  but,  like  Edison,  he  feels  that  special  talents 
have  been  given  to  him,  and  his  time  must  be  de 
voted  to  his  work.  His  cards  of  refusal,  however, 
explain  so  courteously  and  regretfully  why  he  can 
not  admit  visitors  or  grant  requests  for  interviews 
that  they  can  never  leave  a  sting. 


ALEXANDER  GRAHAM  BELL 

INVENTOR  OF  THE  TELEPHONE 
1847- 

1876,  first  successful  operation  of  the  telephone 

THE  father  of  Alexander  Graham  Bell  was  deeply 
interested  in  phonetics;  that  is,  the  representation 
of  sounds  by  symbols.  All  their  short  lives  the  Bell 
boys  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  throat  and 
lungs  and  vocal  cords,  and  they  were  not  at  all  sur 
prised  when  their  father  said  one  day,  "Boys,  why 
don't  you  try  to  make  a  talking  machine?" 

They  set  to  work,  and  with  the  help  of  a  skull,  a 
pair  of  bellows  for  lungs,  and  a  tongue  of  rubber 
stuffed  with  cotton,  they  actually  did  manufacture 
a  device  that  would  say  " Mamma"  plainly  enough 
to  induce  the  neighbors  to  come  in  and  ask  to  see 
the  baby. 

This  occurred  in  Scotland,  where  Bell  was  born; 
but  before  many  years  had  passed  he  was  in  London, 
studying  and  experimenting  on  sound.  On  account 
of  weak  lungs  he  went  to  Canada.  He  improved  in 
health,  and  in  1872  he  became  Professor  of  Vocal 
Physiology  at  Boston  University,  teaching  the  deaf 
his  father's  method  of  "visible  speech."  He  was 
fortunate  in  his  pupils,  for  Mr.  Sanders,  the  father 
of  one  of  them,  offered  him  a  salary,  a  home  in 
Salem,  and  a  cellar  to  experiment  in.  He  was  still 
more  fortunate  in  another  pupil,  Miss  Mabel  Hub- 


ii6        ALEXANDER  GRAHAM  BELL 

bard,  a  charming  girl  of  fifteen,  for  she  afterwards 
became  his  wife. 

Bell  was  interested  in  what  was  spoken  of  as  the 
"harmonic  telegraph."  Starting  with  the  fact  that 
if  a  note  is  sung  close  to  the  strings  of  a  piano,  the 
string  corresponding  to  that  note  will  begin  to  vi 
brate,  more  than  one  inventor  believed  that  one 
might  —  if  anybody  could  find  out  how  to  do  it  - 
send  over  a  wire  as  many  messages  simultaneously 
as  there  are  notes  on  a  piano.  Both  Mr.  Sanders 
and  Mr.  Hubbard,  father  of  Miss  Mabel  Hubbard, 
believed  that  this  was  possible,  and  were  ready  to 
help  the  inventor  financially  to  some  extent.  Be 
fore  long,  although  he  had  not  yet  invented  the  har 
monic  telegraph,  he  had  done  some  work  worth 
patenting.  From  the  beginning,  Mr.  Bell  kept  a 
firm  grasp  on  his  patents,  for  he  had  no  notion  of 
allowing  any  of  them  to  be  stolen  from  him.  To  see 
his  attorney  he  had  to  go  to  Washington.  While 
there,  Joseph  Henry,  a  well-known  scientist  half  a 
century  older  than  Bell,  became  interested  in  his 
work. 

"You  have  the  germ  of  a  great  invention,"  said 
Henry.  "  Keep  at  it  till  you  have  made  a  success  of 
it." 

11  But  I  have  not  knowledge  enough  of  electricity," 
said  the  young  inventor  with  some  discouragement. 

"Get  it,  then,"  retorted  the  older  man,  and  Bell 
returned  to  Boston  to  "get  it."  He  had  rented  on 
Court  Street  a  top  floor  over  what  is  now  a  theater, 
and  here  he  worked  night  and  day 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  TELEPHONE     117 


Inventors  have  to  get  models  made,  and  Bell 
went  to  a  shop  which  was  haunted  by  people  of  new 
ideas  who  needed  such  work.  Here  he  met  a  skilled 
machinist  named 
Thomas  Watson. 
"One  day  when 
I  was  hard  at 
work,  "said  Wat 
son,  "a  tall,  slen 
der,  quick-mo 
tioned  man  with 
pale  face,  black 
sidewhiskers, 
and  drooping 
mustache,  big 
nose,  and  high 
sloping  forehead 
crowned  with 
bushy  jet-black 


This  is  a  picture  of  the  first  instrument  through 
which  speech  sounds  were  transmitted  electrically. 


Courtesy  of  the  American  Telephone  and  Telegraph  Company 

PROFESSOR  BELL'S  EXPERIMENTAL 
TELEPHONE,  1875 

hair,  came  rush 
ing  out  of  the 
office  to  my  work-bench."  It  was  Alexander  Gra 
ham  Bell,  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  a  close  con 
nection  between  the  two  men,  as  Watson  worked 
out  in  iron  and  steel  the  ideas  of  the  inventor. 

They  were  struggling  with  the  harmonic  tele 
graph,  but  one  evening  Bell  said:  "I  want  to  tell 
you  of  another  idea  I  have  which  I  think  will  sur 
prise  you.  If  I  could  make  a  current  of  electricity 
vary  in  intensity  precisely  as  the  air  varies  in  den 
sity  during  the  production  of  a  sound,  I  should  be 
able  to  transmit  speech  telegraphically." 


n8         ALEXANDER  GRAHAM  BELL 

This  was  the  soul  of  the  invention  of  the  tele 
phone,  but  to  give  it  a  body  was  no  easy  task.  For 
months  the  two  men  struggled.  Bell  planned  and 
Watson  handled  the  tools.  One  hot  June  afternoon 
in  1875,  they  were  in  rooms  some  sixty  feet  apart, 
experimenting  on  the  latest  attempt.  Suddenly 
Bell  rushed  into  Watson's  room,  crying,  "What  did 
you  do  then?  Don't  change  anything!  Let  me 
see!"  Few  people  would  have  noticed  that  one  of 
the  group  of  instruments  in  use  was  yielding  a 
slightly  different  sound  from  that  given  out  by  the 
others;  but  this  slight  difference  and  the  trained  ear 
that  recognized  it  was  the  beginning  of  success. 

It  was  nine  months  longer  before  the  telephone 
would  carry  a  complete  sentence.  Unluckily,  the 
two  men  were  not  planning  a  dramatic  scene  for 
future  narrators,  and  that  first  sentence  was  the 
very  prosaic  "Mr.  Watson,  please  come  here;  I 
want  you."  Matters  began  to  move  rapidly,  says 
Mr.  Watson,  but  it  was  well  into  1876  before 
the  telephone  could  be  depended  upon  in  a  con 
versation,  and  even  then  the  sentences  must  be 
simple,  and  they  often  had  to  be  repeated  several 
times. 

Having  invented  something  and  patented  it,  the 
next  step  is  to  get  it  before  the  public  and  induce 
people  to  invest  their  money  in  it.  This  was  the 
summer  of  the  Centennial,  the  best  possible  time, 
but  it  was  not  easy  to  get  room  at  the  Exposition 
to  display  the  unknown  telephone,  a  thing  which 
many  of  those  who  had  seen  it  pronounced  to  be  a 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  TELEPHONE     119 


mere  toy.    At  length  a  bit  of  space  between  a  stair 
way  and  the  wall  was  given  to  Bell. 

He  had  reached  Philadelphia  on  the  very  day 
when  the  judges 
were  making 
their  official  vis 
its  of  inspection ; 
but  it  was  so  late 
before  they  came 
anywhere  near 


the 


staircase 


TELEPHONY. 

AUDIBLE  SPEECH  CONVEYED  TWO 
MILES  BY  TELEGRAPH. 


PROFESSOR  A.  GRAHAM  BELL  S  DISCOV 
ERY  —  SUCCESSFUL  AXD  INTERESTING 
EXPERIMENTS  —  THE  RECORD  OF  A  CON 
VERSATION  CARRIED  ON  BETWEEN  BOS 
TON  AND  CAMBRIDGEPORT. 


The  following  account  of  an  experiment  made  on 
the  evening  of  October  9  by  Alexander  Graham  Bell 
and  Thomas  A.  Watson  is  interesting,  as  being  the 
record  of  the  first  conversation  ever  carried  on  by 
word  of  mouth  over  a  telegraph  wire.  Telephones 
were  placed  at  either  end  of  a  telegraph  line  owned 
by  the  Walworth  Manufacturing  Company,  extend 
ing  from  their  office  in  Boston  to  their  factory  in 
Cambridgeport,  a  distance  of  about  two  miles.  (The 
company's  battery,  consisting  of  nine  Daniels  cells, 
was  removed  from  the  circuit  and  another  of  ten 
carbon  elements  substituted).  Articulate  conversa 
tion  then  took  place  through  the  wire.  The  sounds, 
at  first  faint  and  indistinct,  became  suddenly  quite 
loud  and  intelligible.  Mr.  Bell  in  Boston  and  Mr. 
Watson  in  Cambridge  then  took  notes  of  what  was 
said  and  heard,  and  the  comparison  of  the  two  rec 
ords  is  most  interesting,  as  showing  the  accuracy 
of  the  electrical  transmission :  — 


that  some  of 
them  had  al 
ready  declared 
they  were  going 
home.  Then 
something  dra 
matic  occurred, 
for  the  very  wide 
awake  Emperor 
of  Brazil,  Dom 
Pedro,  rushed  up 
to  the  little  table 
with  the  uninter 
esting  looking 

box  and  greeted  the  inventor  most  heartily.  He  had, 
it  seemed,  once  seen  at  Boston  University  Bell's  work 
in  teaching  the  deaf  to  speak.  It  does  not  take  any 
unusual  amount  of  imagination  to  realize  the  inven 
tor's  joy  in  having  at  last  found  a  listener  who  was 
worthy  of  the  invention.  The  Emperor  wanted  to 


BOSTON  RECORD. 
Mr.  Bell  —  What  do  you  think 
•as  the  matter  with  the   instru- 


CAMBRIDGEPORT  RECORD. 

Mr.  Bell  -  What  do  you  think 

is   the  matter   with     the    instru- 


A  CLIPPING  FROM  THE  BOSTON  ADVERTISER 

October  19,  1876 


120        ALEXANDER  GRAHAM  BELL 

know  every  detail.  Then  he  went  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  room  and  listened  at  the  receiver.  "My 
God,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  talks!"  Then  came  Joseph 
Henry  and  the  other  judges,  not  quite  so  tired  as 
they  had  been.  Most  of  the  evening  they  talked 
and  listened,  and  in  the  morning  the  little  corner 
between  the  stairway  and  the  wall  was  vacant,  for 
the  telephone  had  been  carried  away  to  the  place  of 
honor. 

Even  then  no  one  realized  the  enormous  practical 
value  of  the  invention,  and  few  people  had  much 
confidence  in  it.  Still,  money  must  be  had.  Luck 
ily,  everybody  is  curious  to  see  a  new  thing,  and 
from  city  after  city  came  invitations  to  the  inventor 
to  lecture  on  the  marvel.  From  one  place  to  an 
other  he  went,  explaining  what  the  handbills  called 
the  "wonderful  and  miraculous  discovery,"  then  il 
lustrating  its  marvels  by  speech  and  songs  given  by 
Mr.  Watson,  twenty  or  thirty  miles  away,  the  sound 
being  carried  over  telegraph  wires  leased  for  the  oc 
casion.  When  the  lecture  was  to  be  given  in  New 
York  City,  they  hired  a  colored  man  with  a  beautiful 
baritone  voice  to  manage  the  musical  end.  Alas, 
the  negro  had  no  idea  of  crowding  his  lips  and  his 
voice  into  that  little  mouthpiece,  and  Watson  had  to 
take  his  place.  Now  Watson  could  be  heard,  but  he 
was  not  a  musical  genius,  and  when  he  stopped  sing 
ing,  the  negro  asked,  "Is  that  what  you  wanted?" 
"Yes."  "Well,  I  couldn't  do  that11  —  and  he 
walked  away,  his  head  high  in  the  air  and  an  expres 
sion  of  utter  scorn  on  his  face. 


INVENTOR  OF  THE  TELEPHONE     121 

People  began  to  call  for  telephones.  They  wanted 
to  buy  them,  but  Mr.  Hubbard,  as  business  mana 
ger,  refused  to  sell;  all  telephones  must  be  leased. 
This  piece  of  wisdom  and  foresight  has  made  it  pos 
sible  to  keep  the  system  uniform  and  efficient. 

It  is  not  at  all 
uncommon  for  a 
valuable  inven 
tion  to  be  so 
poorly  managed 
from  a  business 
point  of  view 
that  the  inven 
tor  gains  little 
by  his  work ;  but 
the  interests  of 
Mr.  Bell  have 
been  so  well 
guarded  by  his 


own  carefulness 
in  securing  pat 
ents  and  by 
the  skill  and 
watchfulness  of 
the  manage- 


Courtesji  of  the  American  Telephone  awl  Telegraph  Company 

A  TELEPHONE  OF  1882 

Contrast  this  illustration  with  the  simple  telephone 
apparatus  with  which  we  are  familiar.  It  will  be 
seen  that  the  telephone  of  early  days  comprised  a 
separate  ringing  apparatus  and  transmitter.  In  order 
to  call  "Central"  it  was  necessary  to  turn  a  switch, 
press  a  button,  and  revolve  a  small  crank,  whereas 
to-day  all  that  we  have  to  do  is  remove  the  ear-piece 
from  the  hook. 


ment     that    he 

has  become  a  very  wealthy  man,  with  one  home  in 
Washington,  another  in  Baddeck,  Cape  Breton,  and 
the  ability  to  have  as  many  more  as  he  may  choose. 


JOHN  WANAMAKER 

FOUNDER  OF  THE  DEPARTMENT  STORE 

1838- 
1876,  opened  the  first  department  store  in  America 

HE  was  a  very  small  boy,  but  he  was  big  enough  to 
"turn  up  bricks"  in  his  father's  brickyard  so  they 
would  dry  in  the  sun ;  and  this  was  the  way  he  earned 
his  first  money.  The  boy's  name  was  John  Wana- 
maker,  and  before  many  years  had  passed,  he  had 
become  quite  accustomed  to  turning  over  other 
things  than  bricks  and  to  handling  a  good  deal  of 
money;  but  no  sum  ever  looked  quite  so  big  to  him 
as  the  pennies  that  his  father  paid  him  for  his  work 
in  the  brickyard. 

When  he  was  fourteen  he  asked  a  Philadelphia 
publisher  for  a  place  as  errand  boy,  and  won  it, 
with  $1.25  a  week  for  wages.  Then  he  took  a 
place  in  a  men's  clothing  store  at  twenty-five  cents 
a  week  advance.  He  did  his  work  just  as  well  as 
he  could,  and  was  quite  an  ideal  errand  boy;  but 
his  brain  was  busy  building  air-castles.  The  pro 
prietor  of  the  store  took  a  great  fancy  to  him  and 
used  to  invite  him  out  to  lunch  for  the  amusement 
of  hearing  him  talk  about  what  he  meant  to  do 
when  he  was  a  man.  "I'm  going  to  be  a  great 
merchant,"  he  used  to  say  earnestly;  and  then  he 
would  chatter  away  about  his  plans. 

Next,  John  was  made  a  salesman.     Most  of  the 


DEPARTMENT  STORE  FOUNDER     123 

salesmen  of  that  time  were  satisfied  if  they  could 
induce  customers  to  buy;  but  this  salesman  aimed 
at  something  better;  he  wanted  them  to  be  pleased 
with  their  purchases  after  they  had  reached  home. 
The  result  was  that  people  began  to  ask  for  him 
when  they  came  to  the  store,  and  before  long  he 
had  a  large  circle  of  customer  friends. 

Besides  his  duties  in  the  store,  John  Wanamaker 
was  deeply  interested  in  Sunday-School  work  and 
in  a  society  that  had  been  formed  only  a  few  years 
earlier  by  some  young  men  in  London.  This  was 
the  Y.M.C.A.,  and  soon  the  earnest  worker  became 
secretary  of  the  Association  in  America.  He  was  a 
good  patriot,  and  when  the  war  broke  out,  in  1861, 
he  tried  to  enlist,  but  was  refused  because  of  weak 
lungs.  He  meant  to  do  something  for  his  country, 
however,  lungs  or  no  lungs,  and  he  helped  with  all 
his  might  ia  organizing  the  Christian  Commission. 

Meanwhile  he  had  been  saving  as  much  of  his 
salary  as  he  could.  Half  a  century  later,  he  said: 
"The  difference  between  the  clerk  who  spends  all 
his  salary  and  the  clerk  who  saves  part  of  it,  is  the 
difference  in  ten  years  between  the  owner  of  a 
business  and  a  man  out  of  a  job." 

This  certainly  held  good  in  his  case,  for  before 
many  years  had  passed  he  had  two  thousand  dollars. 
His  wife's  brother  had  about  the  same  amount,  and 
the  two  young  men  set  up  in  business  for  them 
selves. 

The  first  thing  they  did  was  to  agree  to  pay  one 
third  of  their  capital  as  annual  salary  to  a  salesman. 


I24  JOHN  WANAMAKER 

Most  merchants  would  have  said  they  were  crazy 
to  do  such  a  thing,  but  the  partners  were  in  the 
right.  The  salesman  was  the  best  to  be  had,  and 
he  was  well  known  in  the  city.  The  fact  that  they 
had  engaged  him  looked  as  if  they  had  started  on  a 
good  foundation,  and  the  wholesale  houses  were 
willing  to  let  them  have  goods  on  credit.  It  was 
the  best  advertisement  they  could  have  had,  and 
from  the  first  Wanamaker  believed  firmly  in 
advertising. 

His  advertising,  however,  was  quite  unlike  the 
plain,  old-fashioned  way  of  merely  stating  that  one 
had  something  to  sell  and  people  would  be  per 
mitted  to  buy  it;  his  notion  of  advertising  was  not 
only  to  tell  what  was  for  sale,  but  to  set  people  to 
talking  about  it.  And  talk  the  good  people  of 
Philadelphia  did!  The  Quaker  City  was  aroused 
by  flights  of  balloons  and  the  published  promise 
that  whoever  brought  one  back  to  Wanamaker  & 
Brown  would  receive  a  suit  of  clothes  free.  Posters 
were  once  put  up  in  the  night,  so  that  in  the  morn 
ing  the  whole  city  was  ablaze  with  "  W.  &  B."  and 
people  were  questioning  what  it  meant.  Billboards 
were  set  up  in  prominent  places.  Wanamaker  was 
original  in  whatever  he  did,  and  people  soon  began 
to  talk  about  him,  to  wonder  what  he  would  do 

The  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger  in  describing  the  arrangement  of 
this  "new  kind  of  store"  said,  "In  the  centre  of  the  building  is  a 
circular  counter  ninety  feet  in  circumference,  which  is  devoted  to  the 
sale  of  silks.  .  .  .  Radiating  from  this  are  aisles  196  feet  in  length. 
These  are  intersected  by  other  aisles  running  between  the  concentric 
circles  of  counters,  on  which  are  exhibited  all  sorts  of  articles  that  go 
to  make  up  a  large  and  complete  stock  of  dry  goods." 


126  JOHN  WANAMAKER 

to-morrow  —  and  also  to  visit  his  store  and  buy. 
Such  methods  are  common  now;  but  Wanamaker 
invented  them  and  scores  of  others  like  them. 

Before  many  years  had  passed  he  opened  the  first 
department  store  in  the  world.  This  does  not  mean 
merely  that  he  had  a  variety  of  goods  to  sell;  it 
means  that  the  store  consisted  of  a  number  of 
separate  departments  with  a  buyer  at  the  head  of 
each.  The  buyer  was  as  independent  as  if  he  were 
in  a  store  of  his  own.  He  bought  what  he  thought 
best  and  fixed  the  selling  price.  Costs  for  advertis 
ing  and  general  store  expenses  were  divided  among 
the  different  departments.  Of  course  a  careful 
record  was  kept,  showing  at  a  glance  just  what  each 
one  was  doing.  If  any  department  failed  to  do 
well,  there  was  a  careful  investigation  to  find  out 
what  the  trouble  was  and  how  to  improve  matters. 

Wanamaker  had  some  very  definite  ideas  of  how 
a  store  should  be  run,  and  he  laid  down  his  principles 
and  lived  up  to  them.  First  of  all,  his  store  must 
be  honest.  Cloth,  for  instance,  was  often  marked 
by  " trade  width";  that  is,  an  inch  or  two  more 
than  it  really  measured.  In  the  Wanamaker  store 
"54-inch  cloth"  might  turn  out  to  measure  55 
inches,  but  it  would  never  measure  53.  If  goods 
was  part  cotton  and  a  clerk  in  the  hope  of  making 
a  sale  stated  that  it  was  all  wool,  that  clerk  was 
promptly  discharged. 

Second,  all  customers  were  to  be  treated  with 
equal  courtesy.  If  a  little  girl  was  sent  to  buy  a 
spool  of  silk,  just  as  much  care  must  be  given  to 


DEPARTMENT  STORE  FOUNDER     127 

matching  her  sample  as  to  an  order  for  furnishing  a 
house. 

Third,  the  price  of  everything  was  to  be  the  same 
to  all,  and  it  was  to  be  marked  in  plain  figures.  It 
was  quite  the  custom  for  clerks  to  charge  a  customer 
as  much  as  they  thought  he  could  be  induced  to 
pay;  and  in  many  stores  the  surest  way  to  win  pro 
motion  was  to  succeed  in  transferring  money  from  the 
pocket  of  the  customer  to  the  till  of  the  merchant, 
regardless  of  fairness  and  justice.  Of  course  having 
the  price  in  plain  figures  would  interfere  with  any 
such  fashion  of  making  sales,  so  cost  and  selling 
price  were  marked  in  cipher.  To-day  a  few  stores 
still  keep  up  the  old  method  of  marking  in  cipher, 
but  nearly  all  have  learned  that  a  large  amount 
of  trade  comes  from  people  who  buy  what  attracts 
their  attention  in  passing,  and  that  they  are  much 
more  likely  to  stop,  look,  and  purchase  if  the  price 
is  in  sight. 

Fourth,  any  customer  who  was  not  satisfied  with 
what  he  had  bought  might  exchange  it  for  other 
goods  or  have  his  money  back  if  he  preferred.  He 
was  not  asked  why  he  wished  to  return  the  goods; 
it  was  enough  that  he  did  wish  it.  Of  course  there 
were  people  who  abused  the  privilege,  as  there  al 
ways  will  be  people  who  will  abuse  every  privilege, 
but  on  the  whole  it  paid,  and  paid  well. 

Fifth,  whatever  promise  w^as  made  by  the  store 
must  be  strictly  fulfilled.  If  an  article  was  to  be 
finished  at  a  certain  time,  it  must  be  finished  at 
that  time,  and  not  half  an  hour  later.  In  short,  the 


128  JOHN  WANAMAKER 

whole  tone  of  the  store  was  honesty  and  regard  for 
the  rights  and  preferences  of  the  customers.  The 
store  has  always  been  conducted  on  these  principles. 
Its  envelopes  for  goods  bear  to-day  the  legend:  — 

"Trustworthy  goods  only 
Straightforward  one  price 
Exactness  of  all  statements. 

Wanamaker's  advertisements  made  interesting 
reading.  They  did  not  sound  as  if  they  came  from 
a  store,  but  rather  like  notes  of  friendly  advice.  An 
advertisement  of  blankets,  for  instance,  described 
their  quality  and  texture,  and  then  said:  "These 
blankets  are  extra  large.  The  part  of  a  blanket 
that  hangs  over  the  edge  of  the  bed,  the  part  that 
you  don't  see  any  use  in  and  don't  want  to  pay  for 

that  is  what  keeps  you  warm." 

Wanamaker  has  made  a  great  deal  of  money,  and 
he  has  given  money  away  generously  wherever  it 
seemed  to  him  to  be  most  needed.  Churches,  hos 
pitals,  schools,  missions,  clubs,  have  all  known  his 
helping  hand.  More  than  that,  he  has  given  freely 
of  his  time  and  thought.  With  so  immense  a  busi 
ness  on  his  mind  the  value  of  an  hour  of  his  busy 
day  can  hardly  be  estimated;  but  over  and  over 
again  he  has  laid  aside  his  business  interests  and 
given  his  whole  attention  to  some  puzzling  detail  of 
a  school  or  a  library.  What  he  has  done  for  the 
comfort  and  pleasure  and  education  of  his  em 
ployees  is  "another  story,"  and  quite  too  long  a 
story  for  a  short  article. 


DEPARTMENT  STORE  FOUNDER     129 


Wanamaker  never  lost  his  interest  in  his  early 
friend,  the  Y.M.C.A.,  and  besides  his  gifts  to  that 
organization  in  this  country,  he  erected  buildings 
for  Association  use  in  China,  Japan,  Korea,  and 
India. 

Another  early 
friend  of  his 
was  a  little 
Sunday  School 
which  he  or 
ganized  in  1858, 
when  he  was 
twenty-  one. 
years  old.  It 
consisted  of 
two  teachers 
and  twenty- 
seven  pupils, 
and  they  met 
in  a  cobbler's 
shop.  This 

small  beginning 

.      ,  ,  i  Courtesy  John  Wanamaker,  Philadelphia 

grew    into    the  _ 

^  A  STAIRWAY  IN  THE  WANAMAKER  STORE, 

famous      Beth-  PHILADELPHIA,  1911 

any        Sunday 

School  of  more  than  three  thousand  members  and 
two  large  churches,  one  of  which  was  given  by  Mr. 
Wanamaker.  He  also  built  Bethany  Temple,  in 
West  Philadelphia;  and  the  three  churches  work 
together.  They  carry  on  a  Penny  Savings  Bank,  a 
Brotherhood  House,  a  library,  and  numerous  other 


130  JOHN  WANAMAKER 

helpful  institutions.  In  all  the  rush  of  business  life 
Mr.  Wanamaker  never  gave  up  his  Sunday-School 
class,  and  when  he  was  Postmaster-General  he  re 
turned  to  Philadelphia  from  Washington  every  Sat 
urday  afternoon  that  he  might  not  be  absent  from 
it.  His  interest  extended  over  the  whole  work  of 
church  and  Sunday-School,  and  he  frequently  made 
ten  or  eleven  informal  addresses  in  the  different  de 
partments  in  a  single  day. 

Besides  being  a  generous  giver  Wanamaker  has 
always  been  a  good  citizen.  He  did  his  best  to 
clean  up  political  corruption.  It  was  due  in  great 
degree  to  his  efforts  that  Philadelphia  has  a  good 
water  supply;  and  when  his  city  was  about  to  sell 
the  gas  plant  for  much  less  than  it  was  worth, 
Wanamaker  quietly  crushed  the  tricky  schemes  by 
offering  to  buy  the  plant  at  a  far  higher  price.  He 
never  sought  for  office.  There  is  little  doubt  that 
he  might  have  had  the  nomination  to  the  vice- 
presidency  in  1912,  but  he  showed  no  desire  for  it, 
although,  when  there  was  need  for  a  business  man 
to  become  Postmaster-General,  he  had  accepted  the 
position  and  turned  the  light  of  his  business  experi 
ence  and  ability  upon  postal  methods.  The  result 
was,  among  other  improvements,  the  establishment 
of  the  free  rural  delivery  service,  the  sea  post- 
offices,  by  which  mail  is  distributed  on  the  ocean 
steamers  and  much  time  is  saved  in  delivery.  He 
did  his  best  to  arouse  the  country  to  the  need  of  the 
parcel  post,  the  postal  telegraph,  and  the  postal 
savings  banks. 


DEPARTMENT  STORE  FOUNDER     131 

"How  did  you  do  it,  Mr.  Wanamaker?"  it  is 
said  that  the  merchant  was  asked.  "You  began 
with  nothing,  and  now  you  have  three  great  stores, 
in  Philadelphia,  in  New  York,  and  in  Paris.  How 
did  you  do  it?"  And  the  man  who  had  succeeded 
replied,  "By  thinking,  toiling,  trying,  and  trusting 
in  God." 

"  But  was  it  not  easier  for  a  young  man  to  succeed 
in  the  days  when  you  began?" 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Mr.  Wanamaker  thoughtfully. 
"The  opportunities  are  much  greater  now  and 
there  are  twice  as  many  of  them." 


FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 

TEMPERANCE  REFORMER 

1839-1898 
1879,  became  President  of  the  National  W.C.T.U. 

WHEN  Frances  Willard  was  a  little  girl,  she  lived 
on  a  Wisconsin  prairie,  in  a  rambling  cottage  cov 
ered  with  roses  and  Virginia  creeper.  She  and  her 
brother  and  sister  manufactured  their  own  play 
things,  played  "  Indians,"  flew  kites,  formed  an 
"Artists'  Club,"  and  also  a  " Rustic  Club"  with  a 
lengthy  list  of  complicated  signals.  They  made 
believe  that  they  lived  in  a  city,  and  organized  a 
government  for  its  management.  Horseback  riding 
was  forbidden  to  the  girls  until  they  were  fifteen, 
but  " Frank"  trained  a  cow  to  draw  her  sled  and  at 
length  to  act  as  saddle-horse  —  when  no  one  was 
looking. 

Occasionally  there  was  a  prairie  fire  by  way  of 
excitement.  These  fires  were  generally  harmless, 
but  one  Sunday,  when  the  Willards  came  home  from 
the  little  church  four  miles  a\vay,  they  found  a 
neighbor's  house  in  danger.  The  whole  family  ran 
with  pails,  and  the  house  was  saved. 

This  was  thrilling  entertainment,  all  the  more 
delightful  because  it  came  on  Sunday,  and  Sunday 
was  rather  a  difficult  day  for  children  in  the  Willard 
home,  for  it  was  "kept"  most  strictly.  One  year 
when  New  Year's  came  on  the  first  day  of  the  week, 


TEMPERANCE  REFORMER          133 

the  presents  were  distributed  Saturday  evening, 
because  it  was  not  thought  right  to  bring  them  out 
on  Sunday.  Among  the  gifts  was  a  religious  book 
for  the  brother  and  an  illustrated  Pilgrim's  Progress 
for  the  little  sister;  and  these,  of  course,  they  were 
allowed  to  read  Sunday.  But  alas  for  Frank!  Her 
present  had  been  the  desire  of  her  heart,  a  big  new 
slate,  and  she  was  not  permitted  to  use  such  a 
week-day  article  until  Monday.  She  endured  the 
condition  of  affairs  as  long  as  she  could,  and  then 
besought  her  mother,  "Mayn't  I  have  my  new 
slate  if  I'll  promise  not  to  draw  anything  but 
meeting-houses?"  She  had  the  slate. 

The  children  had  books  in  plenty,  an  educated 
father  and  mother,  an  excellent  piano,  and  music- 
lessons  at  the  Wisconsin  Institute  for  the  Blind  - 
which  they  called  the  "blind  Institute,"  a  mile 
away  from  their  home.  The  mother  insisted  upon 
their  having  "nice,  considerate  ways,"  and  both 
she  and  their  father  were  the  best  of  companions. 
The  children  were  always  happier  to  have  them 
near.  One  day  when  the  tired  mother  had  gone  to 
her  room  for  a  restful  hour,  small  Frank  followed 
with  some  children's  papers.  "  I  came,  my  dear,  to 
be  alone,"  the  mother  said  gently;  and  the  small 
child  sturdily  retorted,  "It  is  natural  that  I  should 
want  to  be  with  my  mother,  and  I  mean  to  be." 
She  was  not  sent  away. 

The  time  came  when  the  brother  went  to  Beloit 
to  prepare  for  college,  and  the  girls  called  after  him, 
"We've  got  a  Yale  graduate  to  teach  us,  and 


134  FRANCES  E.  WlLLARD 

Beloit  can't  beat  that";  for  they  were  going  to  a 
tiny  schoolhouse  that  had  just  been  built.  They 
were  so  excited  that  they  got  up  long  before  light, 
packed  and  repacked  their  lunch,  sat  waiting  for  a 
long  time  on  the  bobsled  drawn  by  two  big  oxen, 
and  were  the  first  arrivals  at  the  school.  It  was  a 
happy,  healthful  life  for  the  children,-  but  they  were 
growing  up  fast,  and  on  Frank's  eighteenth  birth 
day  her  mother  told  her  that  she  must  not  run  wild 
any  longer,  but  must  "do  up"  her  hair  and  wear  a 
long  dress.  The  girl  yielded,  but  to  her  diary  she 
wailed,  "I  can  never  jump  over  a  fence  again,  so 
long  as  I  live." 

But  she  soon  forgot  the  sorrows  of  long  skirts 
and  hairpins,  for  she  and  her  sister  were  to  go  to  the 
Northwestern  Female  College  at  Evanston.  "My! 
can't  she  recite!  That  new  girl  beats  us  all!"  the 
students  said  of  Frances.  She  soon  became  editor 
of  the  college  paper,  and  a  leader  not  only  in  scholar 
ship,  but  in  every  kind  of  clean  fun.  During  the 
last  year  of  her  course  she  became  a  member  of  the 
Methodist  Church  in  Evanston,  Illinois,  and  her 
determination  to  do  something  worth  while  in  the 
world  was  greatly  strengthened. 

In  the  middle  of  the  last  century  an  educated 
girl  who  wanted  to  earn  money  was  expected  to 
teach,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  Frances  taught. 
Her  first  school  was  ten  miles  from  Chicago.  When 
she  opened  the  door  she  found  herself  in  a  scene  of 
warfare,  for  the  big  boys  had  spent  their  time  of 
waiting  for  the  new  teacher  in  fighting  and  breaking 


TEMPERANCE  REFORMER  135 

windows.  They  quieted  down  at  her  reading  from 
the  Bible,  and  their  young  instructor  could  hardly 
keep  back  a  smile  when  she  saw  them  a  few  minutes 
later  singing  with  gusto,  "I  want  to  be  an  angel." 

The  home  on  the  prairie  was  sold,  and  the  family 
moved  to  Evanston.  Mother  and  daughter  lived 
together  in  "Rest  Cottage";  alone,  for  father  and 
sister  had  died  and  the  brother  had  married. 
Frances  continued  her  teaching.  The  invitation  to 
become  president  of  the  Evanston  Ladies'  College 
came  to  her  in  1871,  while  she  was  nailing  down  a 
stair-carpet.  " Frank,  I  am  amazed  at  you,"  said 
her  trustee  caller.  "Let  some  one  else  tack  down 
carpets,  and  do  you  take  charge  of  the  new  college." 
"Very  well,"  replied  Miss  Willard,  "I  shall  be  glad 
to  do  so.  I  was  only  waiting  to  be  asked." 

She  was  well  fitted  for  the  position.  She  had,  on 
the  invitation  of  a  dear  friend,  just  spent  two  years 
in  European  travel.  She  had  done  considerable 
literary  work,  and  was  becoming  known  as  a  con 
tributor  to  magazines  and  papers.  She  was  de 
lighted  with  the  opportunity  to  be  a  "big  sister"  to 
so  many  young  girls.  As  to  rules,  when  she  herself 
went  away  to  school  a  list  of  seventy  had  been  laid 
before  her.  In  the  Evanston  Ladies'  College  she 
announced  at  the  beginning  of  each  term  that  such 
rules  as  might  be  found  necessary  would  be  given 
one  by  one;  but  that  until  the  need  of  a  rule  was 
shown,  none  would  be  given.  She  sympathized 
heartily  with  the  wish  of  her  girls  to  join  the  literary 
societies  of  Northwestern  University.  Imagine  her 


136  FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 

amazement  —  and  amusement  —  when  she  found 
that  objection  to  this  was  made  on  the  grounds  that 
it  would  be  improper  for  young  women  to  carry  on 
debates  with  young  men;  that  a  girl  might  chance 
to  be  elected  president  of  the  society,  a  highly  im 
proper  position  for  a  girl  to  hold;  and,  worst  of  all, 
that  every  time  a  girl  might  speak  it  would  deprive 
some  young  man  of  the  opportunity  for  practice! 

In  1874  came  the  Women's  Temperance  Crusade 
in  Ohio.  Miss  Willard  was  deeply  interested  in  this 
work,  and  made  speeches  in  its  favor  so  successfully 
that  she  was  in  great  demand  at  temperance  meet 
ings.  Before  long  she  had  a  difficult  choice  to  make. 
On  the  same  day  two  letters  came  to  her.  One 
offered  her  a  teaching  position  at  twenty-four  hun 
dred  dollars  a  year,  equal  to  three  or  four  times  that 
amount  to-day.  The  other  was  from  one  of  the 
temperance  workers  in  Chicago.  "We  are  a  little 
band  without  money  or  experience,  but  with  strong 
faith,"  it  said;  and  then  asked  if  she  would  become 
their  president. 

In  this  position  she  would  have  no  salary  at  all 
except  her  living  expenses;  but  she  promptly  ac 
cepted.  She  had  found  her  life-work,  namely,  to 
speak  for  temperance.  Her  "stint"  was,  as  she 
said,  to  speak  for  the  white  ribbon  throughout  the 
United  States,  in  every  town  and  city  of  ten  thou 
sand  inhabitants  or  more.  Before  the  end  of  1883 
she  had  accomplished  the  task.  She  had  also 
founded  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union, 
and  had  become  its  president,  as  well  as  president 


TEMPERANCE  REFORMER  137 

of  the  National  Christian  Temperance  Union.  On 
her  lists  were  the  names  of  fifteen  thousand  places 
from  which  invitations  to  speak  had  come  to  her,  and 
which  she  had  had  to  refuse  for  lack  of  time.  In  her 
early  work  for  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union,  her  friends  urged  her  to  be  "managed"  by  a 
lecture  bureau.  She  yielded,  for  three  weeks,  but 
she  must  have  almost  driven  her  manager  to  de 
spair,  for  she  kept  her  price  at  twenty-five  dollars, 
and  over  and  over  refused  to  accept  more.  "A 
philanthropist  can't  afford  to  make  money,"  she 
declared. 

She  became  strongly  interested  in  the  agitation 
for  woman  suffrage,  because  she  believed  that 
women  voters  would  put  an  end  to  the  liquor  sa 
loon.  About  the  time  of  her  being  "managed,"  the 
white-ribboners  of  Illinois  prepared  a  petition  for 
the  right  to  vote  and  presented  it  to  the  State  Legis 
lature.  The  list  of  names  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
long,  and  the  members  of  the  Rest  Cottage  house 
hold  took  turns  in  trying  to  iron  it  smooth.  The 
petition  was  not  granted,  so  was  sealed  and  put 
away,  not  to  reappear  until  the  day  should  come  of 
women's  voting  in  Illinois. 

The  days  were  full  of  engagements  and  requests 
for  every  conceivable  kind  of  help.  People  seemed 
to  think  that  because  she  could  make  speeches,  she 
could  do  everything  else.  One  woman  asked  her  to 
secure  a  patent  for  her  on  a  new  kind  of  rolling-pin. 
Another  offered  twenty-five  dollars  for  her  hus 
band's  appointment  as  postmaster.  A  young  man 


138 


FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 


asked  her  to  write  his  part  in  a  debate  on  prohibi 
tion.     A  woman  besought  her  to  select  a  maid  for 

her;  and  a  young 
minister  went  a  step 
farther,  and  begged 
her  to  choose  a  wife 
for  him. 

On  the  platform 
she  was  perfectly  at 
ease,  and  had  a 
charming  fashion  of 
treating  an  audience 
like  a  personal  friend. 
If  something  had 
pleased  her  she  was 
sure  to  speak  of  it  in 
her  next  "sermon." 
It  was  the  same  in 
trouble.  When  news 
of  her  brother's  sud 
den  death  came  to 
her  she  was  on  the 
point  of  taking  the 
train  to  conduct  a 
temperance  prayer- 
meeting.  "He  would 
have  wished  me  to 
do  this,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "And  so  I  went,  and  told  the  people  all 
about  it,  while  we  cried  together,  praying  and  talk 
ing  of  a  better  life,  which  is  an  heavenly." 


THE  WILLARD  FOUNTAIN  IN  CHICAGO 

This  fountain  was  presented  to  the  city  of  Chi 
cago  in  1895.  The  cost  was  in  the  neighborhood 
of  $2000,  and  this  amount  was  raised  by  the 
Loyal  Temperance  Legion,  the  children's  or 
ganization  of  the  W.C.T.U.,  in  contributions  of 
nickels  and  dimes  from  children  in  all  parts  of 
the  country. 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  139 

She  had  the  gift  of  eloquence,  but  even  more  win 
ning  than  that  was  her  confidence  in  the  sympathy 
of  her  audience.  She  never  said  a  word  that  would 
leave  a  sting;  she  always  had  "nice,  considerate 
ways."  In  argument,  even  with  those  who  opposed 
her  most  strongly,  she  was  never  bitter;  for  she  al 
ways  took  it  for  granted  that  others  were  as  honest 
in  their  belief  as  she  was  in  hers.  "All  loved  her," 
said  a  friend,  "because  she  loved  all.  All  trusted 
her  because  she  trusted  all."  "Only  the  Golden 
Rule  of  Christ  can  bring  the  Golden  Age  of  Man," 
was  her  motto. 

So  the  days  went  on  to  the  end  of  her  life  with  the 
noble  woman  who  had  become  such  a  power  for  good 
in  the  world.  She  was  never  jealous  of  the  gains  of 
others,  never  selfish,  always  eager  to  do  her  best. 
She  said  that  "lying  on  the  prairie  grass  and  lifting 
my  hands  toward  the  sweet  sky,  I  used  to  say  in  my 
inmost  spirit,  '  What  is  it  —  what  is  it  that  I  am  to 
be,  O  God?"  "I  fully  purposed  to  be  one  whom 
multitudes  would  love,  lean  on,  and  bless"  -and 
she  attained  her  noble  wish. 

In  the  Capitol  at  Washington  is  the  National 
Statuary  Hall.  To  this  each  State  was  invited  to 
send  statues  in  marble  or  bronze  of  two  of  its  dis 
tinguished  citizens.  For  one  of  her  two  representa 
tives,  Illinois  sent  a  statue  of  Frances  Willard. 


CLARA  BARTON 

FOUNDER  OF  THE  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS 
1821-1912 

1 88 1,  organized  the  American  Red  Cross 

NOT  many  miles  from  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  is 
North  Oxford,  and  here,  in  a  story-and-a-half  cot 
tage,  which  is  still  standing,  there  once  lived  a  very 
timid  little  girl.  On  an  Indian  gravestone  in  a  Phil 
adelphia  cemetery  is  the  inscription  "Annie  Afraid- 
of-Bear,"  but  this  sensitive  little  Oxford  girl  was 
more  timid  than  "Annie,"  for  she  was  afraid  of 
everything.  By  chance  she  saw  the  blow  that  killed 
an  ox,  and  she  dropped  to  the  ground  in  a  fainting 
fit.  Horses  alarmed  her  especially,  for  she  was  sure 
that  some  terrible  accident  would  happen  wherever 
they  were. 

This  little  Clara  was  the  youngest  of  the  family, 
and  the  special  pet  of  the  older  ones.  They  could 
not  understand  her  timidity,  however,  and  occa 
sionally  they  felt  it  their  duty  to  give  her  a  lesson. 
For  instance,  one  day  her  brother  David  caught  her 
up  and  tossed  her  upon  the  back  of  an  unbroken 
colt.  He  jumped  on  another  and  galloped  away, 
followed  by  the  little  sister's  colt.  She  clung  to  the 
mane  and  did  n't  fall  off.  It  was  a  severe  lesson, 
but  a  successful  one,  for  she  was  no  longer  afraid 
of  horses. 

Clara  had  pet  cats  and  pet  dogs;  she  fed  the  chick- 


FOUNDER  OF  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS    141 

ens  and  the  ducks;  she  milked  the  cows;  she  helped 
in  every  way  that  a  child  could.  She  had  a  free, 
healthy  home  life,  but  when  she  was  eleven  years 
old  her  freedom  came  to  an  end,  for  David  had  a 
severe  fall  and  for  two  years  was  a  bedridden  invalid. 
Little  by  little  the  charge  of  the  sick  brother  fell 
upon  her,  and  she  was  a  proud  little  girl  when  she 
found  that  he  would  rather  have  her  care  than  that 
of  any  one  else. 

Four  years  later  she  put  up  her  hair  and  let  down 
her  skirts,  for  she  was  going  to  Hightstown,  New 
Jersey,  to  teach,  and  she  must  look  as  old  as  possi 
ble.  Ten  miles  from  Hightstown  was  Bordentown, 
and  some  of  the  people  in  Bordentown  had  a  notion 
that  public  schools  were  "free  schools  for  paupers," 
and  would  not  allow  their  children  to  attend  them. 
The  result  was  that  two  thirds  of  the  boys  and  girls 
of  the  place  spent  much  of  their  time  in  the  streets. 
Whenever  an  attempt  was  made  to  open  a  public 
school  they  had  a  fine  time  breaking  it  up. 

Here  was  a  chance  for  work,  and  whenever  work 
was  needed  the  young  teacher  was  always  ready. 
"  Allow  me  to  open  a  public  school,"  she  said  to  the 
people  of  Bordentown,  "and  I  will  teach  for  three 
months  without  salary."  Her  offer  was  accepted. 
She  began  her  school  in  a  tiny  brick  house  with  six 
pupils.  In  five  weeks  six  hundred  children  wanted 
to  get  into  the  little  building.  Bordentown  put  up 
a  new  schoolhouse  with  eight  rooms,  and  there  was 
no  more  trouble  about  having  public  schools.  The 
teachers  and  pupils  of  New  Jersey  have  now  bought 


142  CLARA  BARTON 

the  little  brick  building,  and  plan  to  restore  the  in 
terior  so  it  will  look  as  it  did  when  Clara  Barton 
taught  within  its  walls,  and  preserve  it  as  a  me 
morial  to  her. 

Miss  Barton  taught  one  school  after  another,  and 
she  learned  bookkeeping  in  her  brother's  factory, 
and  then  she  went  to  Washington  and  was  appointed 
to  a  position  in  the  Patent  Office.  She  was  the  first 
woman  to  have  such  an  appointment,  and  although 
the  superintendent  declared  that  she  was  the  best 
clerk  he  had  ever  had,  the  other  clerks  were  not 
pleased.  To  make  things  uncomfortable  for  her 
they  used  every  morning  to  range  themselves  along 
the  two  walls  of  the  corridor  through  which  she 
must  walk,  and  when  she  appeared  they  would  be 
gin  to  whistle  and  stare  and  make  boors  of  them 
selves  generally.  She  paid  no  attention  to  them, 
and  then  they  tried  slander.  The  superintendent 
heard  of  this,  and  before  long  a  line  of  discharged 
young  men  marched  sullenly  down  the  steps  of  the 
Patent  Office. 

When  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  in  1861,  and  the 
first  troops,  the  famous  Sixth  Massachusetts  Mili 
tia,  reached  Washington,  her  only  "  Government 
appointment"  was  that  she  saw  the  need  of  help; 
but  she  went  straight  to  the  Capitol,  where  they 
were  quartered,  taking  with  her  five  stout  colored 
men  with  baskets  of  food.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  her  war  work.  There  was  then  no  Sanitary  Com 
mission,  no  organized  relief,  and  she  begged  to  go 
beyond  the  lines.  "That's  no  place  for  a  woman," 


144  CLARA  BARTON 

growled  the  officials,  but  she  won  over  the  Assistant 
Quartermaster-General,  and  she  went. 

The  timid  little  girl  who  had  been  afraid  of  her 
shadow  had  no  fear  of  men  or  of  cannon  or  of  the 
sight  of  blood.  uDo  you  think  I  will  leave  here 
now?"  she  demanded  in  the  midst  of  a  bombard 
ment.  Once  when  there  were  hundreds  of  wounded 
and  no  ambulances,  she  contrived  somehow  to  get  a 
tug,  went  to  Washington,  called  up  the  Chairman  of 
the  Senate  Military  Committee  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  in  two  hours  help  was  on  the  way.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  the  Surgeon-General  gave  her  per 
mission  to  do  what  she  chose  —  but  this  gentle, 
quiet,  low-voiced  woman  would  have  done  it  any 
way  if  she  had  seen  the  need.  She  outranked  every 
body  when  there  was  work  to  be  done.  It  was  not 
until  the  last  year  of  the  war  that  she  had  any  defi 
nite  position ;  what  she  did  was  done  by  one- woman 
power. 

After  the  close  of  the  war  thousands  of  letters 
came  to  her  begging  for  her  aid  to  find  what  had 
become  of  brothers  and  sons  and  husbands.  She 
answered,  as  she  always  answered  every  appeal,  "I 
will  help,"  and  for  four  years  she  carried  on  the 
search.  President  Lincoln's  sympathetic  heart  re 
joiced,  and  to  help  her  in  the  work  he  gave  her  an 
official  appointment.  Two  months  later  he  was  as 
sassinated,  but  she  would  not  stop.  She  organized 
a  "Bureau  of  Records  of  Missing  Men"  at  her  own 
expense.  "What  is  money  to  me  if  I  have  no  coun 
try?"  she  had  demanded  when  her  friends  had  tried 


FOUNDER  OF  AMERICAN  RED  CROSS    145 

to  induce  her  to  save  for  her  own  needs.  As  a  result 
of  her  efforts,  the  graves  of  twelve  thousand  Union 
soldiers  were  named  and  marked  in  the  National 
Cemetery  in  Andersonville,  and  the  names  of 
twenty  thousand  dead  soldiers  were  given  a  place  of 
honor  on  the  Government  records. 

At  length  she  went  to  Europe  to  rest;  but  her 
"rest"  consisted  of  helping  in  another  struggle,  for 
France  and  Germany  were  at  war.  In  Switzerland 
she  learned  about  the  Red  Cross.  "My  country 
must  have  a  Red  Cross  Society,"  she  said,  and  as 
soon  as  she  was  able  to  get  home  and  plead  for  it, 
the  good  work  began.  Perhaps  she  hoped  that  wars 
would  soon  be  at  an  end,  for  she  saw  to  it  that  the 
Society  should  aim  at  lessening  suffering  not  only  in 
war,  but  wherever  else  it  existed. 

She  was  made  president  of  the  organization,  of 
course,  and  the  story  of  the  rest  of  her  life  is  a  record 
of  service  wherever  service  was  needed.  Whether  it 
was  flood,  fire,  famine,  pestilence,  earthquake,  or 
war,  the  Red  Cross  was  ready  with  workers  and 
supplies,  with  system  and  experience  and  the  helping 
hand.  Cold,  heat,  danger  were  nothing  to  Clara 
Barton  when  there  was  work  to  be  done  for  others. 
She  had  forgotten  all  about  the  fears  of  her  child 
hood.  More  than  once  she  had  to  fly  for  life  or  lib 
erty  on  a  strange  horse  in  a  trooper's  saddle;  but 
what  she  called  her  "baby-lessons"  in  riding  the 
wild  colt  served  her  well,  for,  as  she  said,  her  seat  on 
the  back  of  a  horse  was  "as  secure  as  in  a  rocking- 
chair,  and  far  more  pleasurable." 


146  CLARA  BARTON 

In  1892  Clara  Barton  was  called  to  respond  to  the 
toast,  "The  women  who  went  to  the  field."  The 
following  is  a  part  of  her  response: 

"And  what  did  they  know  about  war,  anyway? 
What  could  they  do?  Of  what  use  could  they  be? 
They  would  scream  at  the  sight  of  a  gun,  don't  you  see? 
Just  fancy  them  'round  where  the  bugle-notes  play, 
And  the  long  roll  is  bidding  us  on  to  the  fray! 
Imagine  their  skirts  'mong  artillery  wheels, 
And  watch  for  their  flutter  as  they  flee  'cross  the  fields. 
When  the  charge  is  rammed  home  and  the  fire  belches  hot; 
They  never  will  wait  for  the  answering  shot. 
They  would  faint  at  the  first  drop  of  blood  in  their  sight." 

This  is  what  was  expected  of  women  when  Clara 
Barton  first  led  the  way  to  the  front.  What  is  ex 
pected  of  them  now  is  shown  by  the  records  of  the 
World  War  of  1914. 


BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 

FOUNDER  OF  TUSKEGEE  INSTITUTE 
1859-1915 

1 88 1,  chosen  first  Principal  of  Tuskegee  Institute. 

HALF  a  century  ago,  when  the  Civil  War  was  going 
on,  a  little  black  boy  who  lived  on  a  Southern  plan 
tation  was  awakened  early  one  morning  by  hear 
ing  his  mother  praying  that  some  day  she  and  her 
children  might  be  free.  Before  many  months  had 
passed,  all  the  slaves  on  the  plantation  were  bidden 
to  come  to  the  "big  house,"  where  the  master  lived. 
They  felt  certain  that  something  was  going  to  hap 
pen,  but  no  one  could  tell  what  it  was;  and  all  that 
night  the  black  folk  whispered  together  and  won 
dered  and  guessed  what  might  be  coming. 

In  the  morning  the  little  boy  Booker  went  with  his 
mother  and  brother  and  sister  to  the  "big  house." 
On  the  veranda  were  the  master  and  his  family. 
There  was  also  a  tall  man  in  a  blue  coat  with  brass 
buttons,  who  stepped  forward  and  made  a  little 
speech  and  then  read  a  long  paper.  The  boy 
learned  afterwards  that  it  was  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation;  but  all  he  knew  then  was  that  his 
mother  bent  over  her  children  and  kissed  them, 
with  tears  of  joy  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  and  told 
them  that  they  were  free.  Before  long  the  boy's 
stepfather  sent  for  them  to  come  to  West  Virginia. 

This  little  black  boy  had  several  times  had  a 


148  BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 

glimpse  through  an  open  door  into  a  schoolroom, 
where  boys  and  girls  sat  studying,  and  there  was 
nothing  in  all  the  world  that  he  wanted  so  much  as 
to  go  to  school  and  learn  to  read.  His  mother  con 
trived  to  get  him  an  old  spelling  book,  and  somehow 
he  learned  most  of  the  alphabet.  After  a  while  a 
school  was  opened,  but  the  boy  was  sadly  disap 
pointed,  for  his  stepfather  said  he  must  work  and 
help  support  the  family.  Work  he  did,  but  in  the 
evenings,  after  a  long  day  of  labor,  he  studied,  and 
at  length  he  was  permitted  to  go  to  school  for  a 
while,  provided  he  would  get  up  early  and  work  till 
nine,  and  also  work  two  hours  in  the  afternoon. 
When  he  was  no  longer  allowed  to  go  to  school  by 
day,  he  recited  at  night,  sometimes  walking  several 
miles  to  his  teacher's  home. 

One  day  he  heard  two  men  talking  about  a  won 
derful  school  in  Hampton,  Virginia,  where  a  colored 
boy  might  be  taught  and  also  learn  a  trade;  and  just 
as  soon  as  he  could  he  set  off  for  Hampton,  five 
hundred  miles  away,  and  arrived  with  fifty  cents  in 
his  pocket  to  pay  for  his  education.  He  must  have 
been  a  shabby-looking  boy,  for  on  the  way  he  had 
slept  under  a  sidewalk  in  Richmond,  and  he  had 
spent  several  days  earning  money  by  unloading  pig 
iron  from  a  vessel.  It  was  a  question  whether  he 
would  be  permitted  to  enter  the  school,  for  so  many 
applied  that  only  the  most  promising  could  be 
taken.  But  the  head  teacher  was  watching  him, 
and  suddenly  she  said,  "That  recitation  room  needs 
sweeping.  Take  the  broom  and  sweep  it."  Some- 


FOUNDER  OF  TUSKEGEE  INSTITUTE    149 

how  the  boy  felt  that  this  was  his  entrance  exami 
nation,  and  he  rejoiced  that  he  had  once  worked 
for  a  lady  who  had  insisted  upon  the  best  possible 
sweeping  and  cleaning.  He  swept  that  room  three 
times  and  dusted  it  four  times.  When  it  was 
done  the  teacher  rubbed  her  handkerchief  over  the 
tables  and  woodwork  about  the  walls,  looked  at  the 
handkerchief  and  then  looked  at  the  boy,  as  he  stood 
anxiously  waiting.  "I  guess  you  will  do  to  enter 
this  institution,"  she  said  kindly.  Moreover,  she 
made  him  janitor,  and  so  gave  him  the  chance  to 
work  his  way.  It  was  not  easy,  for  he  had  to  be  up 
at  four  every  morning,  but  he  was  a  happy  boy,  for 
now  he  was  getting  the  education  that  he  had  longed 
for. 

He  was  being  educated  not  only  in  books,  but  in 
ways  that  he  had  never  dreamed  of.  When  the 
time  came  for  making  the  building  ready  for  the 
opening  of  school  in  the  autumn,  he  was  amazed  to 
find  that  the  head  teacher,  whom  he  looked  upon 
as  a  superior  being,  was  not  only  taking  charge  of 
the  work,  but  was  actually  working  beside  him. 
This  was  a  new  idea;  he  had  found  out  that  work 
with  the  hands  was  not  a  disgrace,  but  that  if  it 
was  well  done  it  was  something  to  be  proud  of. 

After  he  graduated  he  went  straight  home  to 
West  Virginia  and  began  to  help  his  own  people  in 
his  own  village.  He  taught  the  boys  and  girls  in 
the  daytime  and  the  older  people  in  the  evening. 
He  established  a  small  reading  room  and  a  debating 
society.  He  taught  in  two  Sunday  Schools  —  in- 


150 


BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 


deed,  he  helped  in  every  way  that  he  could,  without 
any  regard  to  whether  he  was  paid  or  not. 

Next  came  a  call  to  return  to  Hampton  as  a 
teacher;    then    in    1881,    General    Armstrong    was 


PICKING  COTTON  BY  HAND  ON  A  SOUTHERN  PLANTATION 

asked  to  recommend  some  one  as  principal  of  a 
normal  school  for  colored  people  to  be  established 
in  the  little  town  of  Tuskegee,  Alabama.  He 
recommended  Booker  Washington,  and  a  few  days 
later  a  telegram  came  which  said,  "Send  him  at 
once." 

He  had  expected  that,  of  course,  there  would  be 
buildings  and  money  to  work  with;  but  the  money 
consisted  of  a  grant  of  two  thousand  dollars  a  year 
from  the  State  Legislature,  which  could  be  used  for 
nothing  except  teachers'  salaries,  and  the  buildings 


FOUNDER  OF  TUSKEGEE  INSTITUTE    151 

consisted  of  a  shanty  so  tumble-down  and  full  of 
holes  that,  when  it  rained,  the  teacher  had  to  hear 
recitations  from  under  an  umbrella.  As  an  as 
sembly-room  he  was  permitted  to  use  a  church. 
Not  far  away  there  was  an  old  plantation  for  sale 
at  five  hundred  dollars.  He  borrowed  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars,  with  many  fears  lest  he  should  not 
be  able  to  repay  the  loan,  and  made  a  first  payment. 
On  this  plantation  there  was  a  kitchen,  a  stable,  a 
cabin,  and  an  old  henhouse.  These  all  had  to  be 
cleaned  out,  and  the  pupils  took  possession. 

The  people  of  Tuskegee,  white  as  well  as  colored, 
were  deeply  interested  in  the  school,  and  chiefly  by 
their  aid  the  land  was  paid  for  within  five  months. 
People  of  both  races  were  equally  pleased  when  it 
was  decided  somewhat  later  that  a  new  building 
must  be  put  up.  It  would  cost  six  thousand  dollars, 
and  there  was  not  a  penny  in  the  treasury;  but  the 
school  had  grown  so  much  that  without  such  a 
building  it  could  no  longer  do  its  best  work.  Again 
white  people  and  black  people  were  ready  to  help. 
A  white  man  who  ran  a  sawmill  near  Tuskegee  in 
sisted  upon  providing  the  lumber.  "Pay  me  when 
you  can,"  he  said.  A  colored  man  who  had  once 
been  a  slave  brought  a  big  hog  as  his  contribution. 
"Any  nigger  that's  got  any  love  for  his  race,  or 
any  respect  for  himself,  will  bring  a  hog  to  the  next 
meeting,"  he  declared. 

The  building  was  put  up,  and  as  the  school 
increased  more  buildings  were  needed  and  more 
money.  The  whole  burden  of  raising  this  money 


152  BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 

fell  upon  Mr.  Washington ;  and  it  is  no  small  thing 
to  be  responsible  for  a  large  school  and  not  know 
where  the  money  for  bills  is  coming  from.  It  was 
doubly  anxious  work  in  this  case,  because,  if  it  had 
failed,  many  people  would  have  insisted  that  it  was 
because  the  school  had  been  under  Negro  manage 
ment,  and  if  ever  asked  again  to  help  an  institution 
of  the  kind,  they  would  have  refused. 

Mr.  Washington  was  very  wise  in  his  begging. 
He  never  annoyed  people  by  teasing;  he  asked  only 
the  privilege  of  telling  them  what  Tuskegee  and  its 
graduates  were  doing,  and  then  left  it  to  them  to 
decide  whether  they  wished  to  help  in  the  good 
work  or  not.  Sometimes  they  refused,  but  often  he 
received  more  than  he  had  hoped  for.  One  wealthy 
man  listened  to  his  story,  but  gave  him  nothing. 
Two  years  later,  however,  this  man  sent  him  Tus- 
kegee's  first  large  gift,  a  check  for  ten  thousand 
dollars.  "  I  had  placed  this  sum  in  my  will  for  your 
school,"  the  donor  wrote,  "but  deem  it  wise  to  give 
it  to  you  while  I  live.  I  recall  with  pleasure  your 
visit  to  me  two  years  ago." 

It  was  1 88 1  when  the  school  was  opened.  Four 
teen  years  later  there  was  held  at  Atlanta,  Georgia, 
the  Atlanta  Cotton  States  and  International  Ex 
position.  A  special  building  was  set  apart  to  show 
what  the  Negroes  had  accomplished  since  they  had 
become  free;  and  Booker  Washington  was  asked  to 
make  one  of  the  addresses  at  the  opening  of  the 
exposition. 

On  the  appointed  day  he  started  for  Atlanta. 


FOUNDER  OF  TUSKEGEE  INSTITUTE    153 

"I  felt,"  he  said,  "a  good  deal  as  I  suppose  a  man 
feels  when  he  is  on  his  way  to  the  gallows."  And 
certainly  it  was  no  easy  task  to  address  Northern 
whites,  Southern  whites,  and  Negroes  all  together. 
"I  am  afraid  that  you  have  got  yourself  into  a 
tight  place,"  said  a  farmer  friend  to  him.  He 
thought  so  too. 

Governor  Bullock  introduced  him  to  the  audi 
ence  as  "a  representative  of  Negro  enterprise  and 
Negro  civilization."  Mr.  Washington  made  an 
eloquent  address,  and  at  its  close  the  Governor 
grasped  his  hand,  and  both  there  and  on  the  streets 
afterwards,  he  was  surrounded  by  crowds  who  were 
eager  to  shake  hands  with  him.  Now  came  offers 
from  lecture  bureaus  and  editors  of  magazines;  but 
Mr.  Washington  replied  simply  that  his  life-work 
was  to  be  at  Tuskegee,  and  whenever  he  spoke  in 
public  it  must  be  in  the  interest  of  the  school. 

This  speech  at  Atlanta  was  the  beginning  of  his 
public  work.  Long  before  his  death,  which  oc 
curred  in  1915,  his  eloquence  was  recognized  in 
America  and  in  Europe.  When  he  spoke,  he  never 
failed  to  "carry"  his  audience.  Never  did  he  show 
a  trace  of  the  self-seeking  that  would  have  weakened 
his  influence.  He  was  proudly  entertained  both  in 
shanties  and  in  the  noblest  palaces  of  Europe. 
Every  one  respected  him  and  admired  him.  He 
had  no  enemies,  for  he  was  an  enemy  to  no  one. 
"No  man  shall  narrow  and  degrade  me  by  making 
me  hate  him,"  was  the  expression  of  his  character. 

The  plan  of  his  school  was  somewhat  different 


154  BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 

from  that  of  ordinary  schools.  Mr.  Washington's 
idea  was  that  both  black  boys  and  white  boys  ought 
to  get  as  much  education  of  the  brain  as  they  could 
afford;  but  that  the  majority  of  the  educated  col 
ored  people  could  help  themselves  and  their  race 
more  by  entering  business  or  industrial  life.  "  There 
is  as  much  dignity  in  tilling  a  field  as  in  writing  a 
poem,"  he  said  to  them.  That  is  why,  although 


A  PNEUMATIC  MACHINE  FOR  PICKING  COTTON 

the  course  in  "book  learning"  is  as  thorough  as  in 
any  other  school,  a  great  deal  of  emphasis  is  laid 
upon  industrial  work.  The  students  are  required 
to  work  six  days  in  each  month,  and  no  one  is 
allowed  to  graduate  who  is  not  prepared  to  make  in 
some  way  a  living  for  himself  and  others. 

Tuskegee  teaches  some  forty  different  kinds  of 


FOUNDER  OF  TUSKEGEE  INSTITUTE    155 

industrial  work.  The  girls  are  taught  gardening, 
fruit-growing,  dairying,  bee-culture,  sewing,  etc. 
''Learn  to  make  your  services  indispensable,"  said 
the  wise  founder.  This  teaching  is  most  thorough, 
and  the  course  in  horseshoeing,  for  instance,  is  just 
as  carefully  graded  as  that  in  arithmetic.  It  begins: 
"The  condition  of  a  shoeing  floor.  How  to  make  a 
shoer's  fire.  The  name  and  use  of  shoeing  tools. 
What  a  mould  is  and  how  to  make  it;  also  how  to 
strike  on  a  shoe,"  etc.  The  hoofs  and  lower  joints 
of  the  legs  of  a  dead  horse  are  carefully  dissected 
before  the  class,  and  they  see  for  themselves  how 
much  harm  a  single  nail  improperly  driven  can  do. 

Not  many  students  can  afford  to  pay  for  tuition. 
That  is  why  Tuskegee  asks  its  friends  for  help.  As 
for  board,  students  can  work  that  out,  in  part  at 
least,  for  they  are  all  paid  for  what  they  do  on  the 
school  farm.  Students  have  done  the  greater  part 
of  the  work  on  the  school  buildings,  even  to  making 
the  bricks. 

Mr.  Washington  did  not  forget  the  time  when  he 
could  not  have  even  one  hour  a  day  for  school,  and 
he  opened  an  evening  school  for  those  who  had  no 
money  for  any  part  of  their  board.  They  work  ten 
hours  a  day  for  their  expenses,  and  study  two  hours 
in  the  evening. 

Mr.  Washington  believed  that  graduating  essays 
should  be  about  things  that  the  students  had  really 
done  and  really  understood.  One  boy,  for  instance, 
brought  as  his  "essay"  a  live  pig  up  on  the  plat 
form,  and  told  the  audience  what  he  had  learned 


156  BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 

about  the  care  of  pigs.  Another  stood  beside  a  pile 
of  cabbages  and  told  how  he  had  prepared  the  soil 
and  harvested  the  crop.  Never  before  was  a  cab 
bage  applauded  so  heartily  as  the  big  one  that  he 
held  up  for  his  audience  to  see.  How  to  hatch 
chickens  with  an  incubator,  how  to  make  cheese, 
how  to  give  " first  aid  to  the  injured,"  have  all 
been  discussed  on  the  commencement  platform  at 
Tuskegee. 

Many  of  the  audience  were  Negro  farmers.  From 
these  " essays"  they  learned  the  latest  and  best 
methods  of  work.  This  knowledge  they  carried 
home  and  made  use  of  on  their  own  farms.  Their 
neighbors  copied  from  them;  and  like  the  circle 
formed  when  a  stone  is  thrown  into  the  water,  the 
knowledge  of  all  sorts  of  practical  things  continues 
to  spread.  Then,  too,  ev^ery  graduate  is  the  center 
of  a  circle  of  information  and  help  for  those  of  his 
race  who  have  not  had  his  opportunities.  This  is 
what  one  man  has  done  for  his  country,  one  little 
black  boy  who  slept  under  a  Richmond  sidewalk, 
and  began  his  education  on  a  capital  of  fifty  cents 
and  a  determination  to  do  his  level  best. 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

GREATEST  AMERICAN  SCULPTOR 

1848-1907 

1887,  Lincoln's  statue  unveiled  in  Chicago 

ONE  September  day  in  1848  there  landed  in  Boston 
town  a  young  Frenchman,  his  pretty  Irish  wife,  and 
their  baby  son.  The  man  was  a  maker  of  fine  shoes. 
He  had  served  his  apprenticeship  in  the  slow,  old- 
fashioned  way,  and  now  he  was  ready  to  show  the 
New  Yorkers  that  their  lasts  were  entirely  wrong, 
and  that  whether  the  shoes  which  he  made  for  them 
were  comfortable  and  fashionable  or  not,  they  were 
correct,  and  this  was  all  that  could  be  asked. 

His  son  said  years  afterwards  that  the  only  time 
when  shoes  were  properly  made  in  that  shop  was 
once  when  the  proprietor  was  away  for  some  weeks. 
Nevertheless,  it  somehow  came  to  pass  that  the 
wealthiest  and  best-known  people  in  New  York  were 
customers.  Maybe  they  cared  less  for  the  shoes 
than  for  the  pleasure  of  arguing  with  the  positive 
little  shoemaker,  who  talked  ''with  a  wonderfully 
complex  mixture  of  fierce  French  accent  and  Irish 
brogue,"  and  was  ready  to  leave  his  work  for  an 
argument  at  any  moment.  One  of  these  customers 
noticed  in  a  little  pause  between  arguments  a  small 
boy  in  a  corner  making  pen-and-ink  sketches  of  the 
shoemakers  as  they  worked,  and  pleaded  that  the  boy 
should  be  allowed  to  become  an  artist,  as  he  wished. 


158         AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

This  small  boy  said  in  later  years  that  he  was  a 
boy  of  streets  and  sidewalks;  and  certainly  he  was 
more  like  a  street  Arab  than  an  ideal  genius.  He 
helped  stretch  cords  across  the  sidewalk  to  knock 
off  men's  hats  in  the  dark.  He  lowered  his  mother's 
basket  of  sweet  potatoes  without  her  consent  and 
cooked  them  in  a  cobblestone  furnace  in  the  street; 
and  his  "gang"  fought  with  other  gangs  whenever 
they  came  together.  He  says  that  in  school  about 
fifteen  of  these  boys  were  lined  up  every  afternoon 
to  receive  their  daily  whipping.  They  formed  a  dire 
and  dreadful  plot  to  murder  the  teacher;  but  some 
how  he  escaped  the  consequences  of  his  misdeeds. 

When  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens  was  thirteen,  his 
father  said  one  day:  "My  boy,  you  must  go  to  work. 
What  should  you  like  to  do?" 

"I  don't  care,"  the  boy  replied,  "if  if  is  only 
something  that  will  help  me  to  be  an  artist." 

Early  in  the  nineteenth  century  a  few  American 
painters  were  successful  enough  to  be  known  in 
Europe,  but  there  were  hardly  any  sculptors,  and 
they  made  their  homes  in  Italy  as  soon  as  the  fates 
permitted.  They  could  not  easily  do  otherwise. 
There  were  neither  teachers  nor  good  statues  in 
America.  There  were  no  bronze  foundries  and  no 
good  statuary  marble.  In  1853  there  was  just  one 
equestrian  statue  in  the  United  States.  As  the 
years  passed  a  deeper  interest  was  taken  in  sculp 
ture.  Artists  began  to  return  'to  America  after 
studying  abroad.  Even  then,  however,  although 
there  were  sculptors  of  ability  in  the  land,  they  vvere 


GREATEST  AMERICAN  SCULPTOR     159 

absorbed  in  their  own  work  and  did  not  care  or  were 
not  prepared  to  teach.  Cutting  cameos  was  a  step 
in  the  right  direction,  perhaps  as  long  a  step  as 
could  be  taken  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic;  and  to  a 
cutter  of  stone  cameos  the  boy  was  apprenticed. 
But  the  cutter  had  a  bad  temper,  and  after  three 
years  he  discharged  the  boy.  To  be  sure,  he  came 
half  an  hour  later  with  an  offer  of  more  wages,  but 
the  apprentice  refused  to  return.  He  never  forgot 
his  father's  proud  little  smile  as  he  listened  to  the 
son's  speech  of  refusal. 

To  make  cameos  of  stone  was  far  more  aristo 
cratic  employment  than  to  make  them  of  shell;  and 
the  young  Augustus  felt  a  little  humiliated  when 
he  made  an  engagement  to  work  for  a  cutter  of  the 
latter.  Fortunately,  the  new  master  owned  a  lathe 
for  cutting  stone  cameos  which  he  was  glad  to  have 
used;  and  so  dignity  was  saved.  Even  better  than 
this,  he  was  interested  in  his  apprentice's  talent,  and 
gave  him  extra  time  every  day  for  modeling.  Then, 
too,  the  young  man  studied  at  Cooper  Institute, 
working  every  evening  long  after  the  class  was  over. 
"Some  day  I  shall  be  a  famous  sculptor,"  he  used  to 
say  to  himself;  and  he  was  ready  to  work  night  and 
day  to  bring  his  dream  to  pass. 

When  he  was  nineteen  his  father  bought  him  a 
steerage  ticket  to  France  and  gave  him  a  hundred 
dollars,  saved  from  the  son's  wages;  and  before 
many  days  had  passed  the  cameo-cutter  was  study 
ing  modeling  in  Paris  with  all  his  might.  He  was 
supporting  himself  by  cutting  cameos,  but  the  mod- 


1 6o         AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

eling  was  so  much  more  interesting  than  the  cutting 
that  he  gave  the  latter  only  time  enough  to  keep 
himself  from  starving.  Every  little  while  he  took 
a  cheaper  room,  moving  after  dark  so  that  no  one 
should  see  how  little  he  had  to  move. 

When  he  first  came  he  had  applied  promptly  to 
the  American  Minister  to  make  a  formal  application 
to  the  Beaux  Arts  for  his  entrance.  After  nine 
months  of  waiting  —  and  working  —  a  big  envelope 
with  the  seal  of  the  United  States  was  handed  to 
him.  It  contained  his  certificate  of  admission. 
This  was  more  than  a  permission  to  enter  an  art 
school;  it  was  a  declaration  of  belief  in  his  talent, 
and  he  worked  with  more  enthusiasm  than  ever. 

Then  came  the  Franco-Prussian  War.  One  regi 
ment  after  another  left  Paris  for  the  front.  He 
could  hardly  help  joining  them;  but  letters  from  his 
parents  came  continually,  begging  him  not  to  en 
list,  and  he  yielded  to  their  entreaties.  To  a  friend 
he  wrote :  "They  are  getting  old,  and  love  me.  They 
have  worked  hard  all  their  lives,  are  poor,  and  are 
still  working.  What  would  happen  if  they  should 
lose  me  now?  You  can  imagine  what  a  miserable 
state  of  mind  I  am  in." 

But  a  happy  day  was  coming.  Saint-Gaudens 
had  made  a  clay  model  for  a  statue  of  Hiawatha, 
"pondering,  musing  in  the  forest,  on  the  welfare  of 
his  people."  It  was  nearly  done,  but  he  shut  the 
door  of  his  studio  and  walked  away  gloomily.  Here 
was  a  piece  of  work  that  he  believed  would  bring 
him  fame,  and  he  had  not  the  money  to  have  it  cast 


GREATEST  AMERICAN  SCULPTOR     161 

in  plaster.  But  the  fairy  godmother  —  or  rather, 
godfather  —  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a  wealthy 
American.  The 
Hiawatha  was 
cast  in  plaster, 
cut  in  marble, 
and  sold  in 
America.  "I 
suppose  I 

danced  with 
glee,"  wrote 
Saint- Gaudens. 
He  returned  to 
America  for  a 
while.  "I  am 
traveling  in  the 
steerage,"  he 
said,  "  but  some 
day  I'll  be  cross 
ing  the  ocean 
in  the  cabin  as 
a  well-known 


This  monument,  in  memory  of  one  of  the  founders 
of  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  is  one  of  Saint-Gau- 
dens's  most  picturesque  works.  It  is  not  intended  as 
a  portrait  but  as  an  ideal  embodiment  of  the  prin 
ciples  of  the  stalwart  old  Puritans  of  New  England. 


DEACON  SAMUEL  CHAPIN 
artist." 

Ini875Saint- 
Gaudens  was  in 
America,  with  a 
dismal  little  studio  and  such  longing  for  Rome  that, 
until  the  engineer  of  the  building  objected,  he  used 
to  let  water  trickle  into  his  bowl  to  imitate  the 
sound  of  a  favorite  Roman  fountain.  There  was 
another  reason  for  his  gloom.  The  father  of  a  cer- 


162         AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

tain  young  lady  now  on  her  way  to  America  had  re 
fused  to  consent  to  her  marriage  with  the  sculptor 
until  he  had  at  least  one  important  commission;  and 
no  commission  had  come. 

A  statue  of  Admiral  Farragut  was  to  be  erected  in 
New  York,  but  there  was  not  much  chance  for  a  lit 
tle  known  sculptor  to  be  chosen  as  its  maker.  Saint- 
Gaudens  did  his  best  to  get  the  commission.  He 
made  two  models,  a  large  drawing,  and  a  bust ;  and 
he  won  the  prize.  After  two  years  the  statue,  in 
plaster,  was  exhibited  in  Paris.  One  year  later  it 
was  formally  unveiled  in  New  York  City,  and  now 
stands  in  Madison  Square. 

There  was  no  question  that  the  maker  of  this 
statue  was  a  great  sculptor.  The  Admiral  stands 
on  deck,  his  feet  wide  apart,  as  they  have  to  be  to 
keep  one's  balance  on  shipboard.  He  is  very  much 
alive  and  very  human.  At  the  first  glance  you  feel 
that  it  is  a  real  person,  not  a  figure  which  the  sculp 
tor  has  imagined  as  an  ideal  admiral.  Before  it  was 
cast  in  bronze  Saint-Gaudens  wrote,  "At  times  I 
think  it's  good,  then  indifferent,  then  bad";  but  no 
one  else  doubted  that  it  was  good.  Even  the 
crowds  about  the  statue,  most  of  them  people  who 
knew  nothing  about  art,  felt  its  power  and  its  mean 
ing.  "You  have  preached  a  small  sermon  on  truth, 
honor,  courage,  and  loyalty,"  wrote  one  of  the  best 
critics  of  the  day  to  the  artist.  One  midnight,  soon 
after  the  unveiling,  Saint-Gaudens,  his  wife,  and  a 
friend  passed  near  the  statue.  There  stood  an  old 
man  with  his  hat  off.  "Why,  that's  father!"  the 


GREATEST  AMERICAN  SCULPTOR     163 

artist  exclaimed.  "Father,  what  are  you  doing 
here  at  this  hour?"  "Oh,  you  go  about  your  busi 
ness!"  his  father  replied.  "Have  n't  I  a  right  to  be 
here?"  Everybody  had  praised  the  statue,  but  I 
fancy  that  this  bit  of  appreciation  pleased  Saint- 
Gaudens  more  than  all  the  rest.  A  few  years  after 
this  the  father  died.  He  had  always  been  very  dear 
to  his  talented  son ;  and  that  night  the  artist  walked 
sobbing  back  and  forth  in  his  dimly  lighted  studio, 
telling  his  own  little  son  all  that  his  father  had 
meant  to  him. 

Saint-Gaudens  was  remarkably  successful  in  his 
low-relief  portrait  medallions,  a  graceful,  delicate, 
fascinating  species  of  art.  It  is  not  easy,  for  while 
a  statue  is  in  the  shape  of  nature,  a  low  relief  is 
not,  and  yet  must  appear  to  be.  Saint-Gaudens  did 
such  fine  work  in  this  line  that  some  people  who  had 
not  seen  his  statues  wondered  whether  he  would  be 
able  to  make  them  as  strong  as  the  medallions  were 
exquisite. 

Besides  the  Farragut,  Saint-Gaudens's  most  fa 
miliar  works  are  the  statue  of  Sherman,  the  bas-re 
lief  memorial  of  Robert  Gould  Shaw,  the  statue  of 
Lincoln,  and  the  statue  in  the  Rock  Creek  Cemetery 
in  Washington. 

In  the  Sherman  statue  Sherman  is  on  horseback, 
pressing  forward,  while  Victory,  in  the  form  of  a 
young  girl,  is  leading  the  way.  It  is  so  full  of  motion 
that  one  can  hardly  realize  that  it  is  not  actually 
sweeping  onward. 

In  the  bronze  medallion  on  Boston  Common  in 


i64         AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

memory  of  Robert  Shaw,  who  took  command  of  a 
Negro  regiment  in  the  Civil  War,  the  commander  is 
on  horseback,  and  with  him  are  the  marching  Ne 
groes,  uniformed  alike,  carrying  muskets  all  point 
ing  the  same  way.  It  was  not  an  easy  problem  to 
keep  this  from  being  stiff,  to  give  no  two  prominent 
muskets  exactly  the  same  slant,  and  to  keep  the 
lower  part  of  the  bronze  from  being  a  mere  wilder 
ness  of  legs  of  horses  and  men;  but  the  artist  suc 
ceeded.  This,  too,  is  full  of  motion,  but  it  is  a  si 
lent,  sturdy,  determined  motion,  quite  unlike  the 
irresistible  swiftness  of  the  Sherman  figure. 

Entirely  different  from  these  is  the  statue  in  the 
Rock  Creek  Cemetery,  which  John  Hay  and  many 
others  have  called  Saint-Gaudens's  masterpiece.  It 
is  a  bronze  figure  of  a  woman  with  heavy  drapery 
falling  about  her  in  loose  folds.  She  sits  on  a  block 
of  granite  against  a  granite  wall.  Her  head  rests 
upon  her  hand.  The  marvel  of  the  statue  is  the  face 
and  its  expression.  The  sculptor  said,  "My  own 
name  for  it  is  'The  Peace  of  God."  A  few  years 
later,  when  asked  by  a  friend  what  he  called  the 
figure,  he  hesitated  and  then  said,  "I  call  it  'The 
Mystery  of  the  Hereafter."  "Then  it  is  not  hap 
piness?"  asked  his  friend.  "No,"  he  replied;  "it  is 
beyond  pain  and  beyond  joy." 

Saint-Gaudens's  statue  of  Lincoln  appeals  to 
everybody.  The  great  statesman  stands  in  front  of 
his  chair.  One  hand  is  behind  him,  the  other  grasps 
the  lapel  of  his  coat.  His  head  is  slightly  bowed, 
and  there  is  a  solemn  dignity  and  thoughtfulness  in 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Of  this  statue  by  Saint- Gaudens,  Royal  Cortissoz  writes:  "The  Lincoln  has  al 
ways  seemed  to  me  one  of  the  salient  statues  of  the  world,  a  portrait  and  a  work  of 
art  of  truly  heroic  mould.  Simplicity  is  its  predominating  characteristic.  Precisely 
in  this  attitude  does  one  prefer  to  see  Lincoln  portrayed,  with  no  hint  of  dramatic 
movement,  with  nothing  of  the  orator,  but  with  everything  of  the  quiet,  self- 
contained  genius  that  was  the  same  under  all  circumstances,  in  all  crises.  ...  It  is 
as  if  Saint-Gaudens  had  divined  Lincoln's  very  soul  and  had  imaged  him  forth  as 
men  saw  him  under  the  stress  of  the  war,  and  as  he  lives  in  the  imagination  of  mil 
lions. " 


1 66         AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUD  ENS 

the  attitude  and  in  every  line  of  the  face.  A/lore 
than  one  sculptor  has  noted  the  lack  of  symmetry  in 
Lincoln's  measurements  and  has  persisted  in  chisel 
ing  him  as  ill-proportioned  and  awkward.  Saint- 
Gaudens  realized  that  a  man  with  a  great  thought 
cannot  be  awkward,  whatever  his  measurements 
may  be,  and  he  has  given  us  the  real  Lincoln. 

Saint-Gaudens  looked  upon  his  pupils  almost  as 
his  own  children.  He  criticized  their  work  so  gently 
that  one  complained  she  could  not  tell  whether  he 
really  meant  it  or  not.  When  his  son  sent  a  drawing 
of  himself  for  criticism,  the  father  returned  a  playful 
note,  saying:  "I've  forgotten  how  your  ear  is  con 
structed,  but  if  it's  made  like  that,  you  have  the 
only  ear  so  placed  in  the  world.  You  have  tipped 
the  top  forward,  instead  of  backward,  as  it  exists 
with  everybody  but  freaks.  If  your  ear  is  so  con 
structed,  you  need  n't  worry  about  studying  to  earn 
your  living.  You  can  earn  that  in  a  museum." 

He  was  always  conscientious  in  his  praises,  but 
generous.  One  day  he  came  across  a  piece  of  work 
by  a  young  sculptor  which  pleased  him  much.  He 
called  a  cab  on  the  instant,  took  the  long  ride  to  the 
door  of  the  artist,  and  said,  "I  am  Mr.  Saint-Gau 
dens,  and  I  've  come  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  the 
beautiful  work  you  have  done."  There  was  no 
jealousy  in  him.  When  any  one  of  his  artist  friends 
made  a  success,  he  was  as  proud  of  it  as  if  it  had  been 
his  own.  He  was  too  great  to  be  jealous. 

He  liked  people  of  all  sorts,  and  they  liked  him. 
In  the  words  of  Weir  Mitchell,  "I  think  a  sweeter 


GREATEST  AMERICAN  SCULPTOR     167 

gentleman  I  never  knew,  nor  one  so  magnanimous 
about  his  fellow-artists,  nor  any  so  capable  of 
putting  the  high  poetry  of  his  imagination  into 
marble." 


JAMES  JEROME  HILL 

BUILDER  OF  RAILROADS 

1838-1916 

1890,  consolidation  of  the  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  and  Manitoba 
Railroad  with  the  Great  Northern 

JAMES  JEROME  HILL  was  famous  as  a  builder  of 
roads,  but  the  first  one  that  he  built  brought  him 
neither  fame  nor  fortune.  His  father  said,  "  If  you 
will  make  a  road  from  the  farm  to  the  village,  I  will 
give  you  a  two-year-old  colt."  With  the  help  of  the 
other  boys  the  hardy  little  fellow  made  the  road. 
It  was  a  mile  long,  and  wherever  there  was  a  swamp 
he  had  to  lay  down  logs,  and  then  put  smaller  logs 
across  them  to  form  a  " corduroy"  road.  When  the 
work  was  done  the  colt  was  two  and  a  half  years  old. 
The  boy  did  not  fare  so  well  as  he  deserved,  for  his 
father  had  a  creditor  and  the  creditor  wanted  a  colt, 
and  poor  little  "Jim"  was  left  crying  in  the  vacant 
stall. 

The  Hill  family  removed  to  Rockwood,  Ontario, 
and  the  boy  was  sent  to  the  Rockwood  Academy. 
He  had  attended  a  good  district  school  from  the 
time  that  he  was  five  years  old,  and  now  for  four 
years  he  was  under  .the  influence  of  the  strong,  wise, 
and  inspiring  man  who  was  principal  of  the  Acad 
emy.  On  the  death  of  Mr.  Hill  the  family  made 
their  home  in  Guelph.  School  had  to  be  given  up, 
but  not  study,  and  this  was  carefully  guided  by  his 


BUILDER  OF  RAILROADS  169 

teacher  and  friend.  The  grateful  boy  never  forgot 
this  kindness,  and  in  writing  to  this  teacher  thirty 
years  later,  he  began  the  letter,  "My  dear  old  Mas 
ter." 

On  leaving  school  he  had  found  work  in  a  store, 
and  he  felt  rich,  indeed,  when  he  handed  his  first 
month's  wages  to  his  mother.  He  was  faithful, 
and  after  one  year  his  salary  was  trebled.  He  was 
not  exactly  a  millionaire  even  then,  for  he  had  re 
ceived  at  first  only  one  dollar  a  week;  but  with 
sewing  and  washing  and  gardening,  and  three  dol 
lars  a  week  as  a  steady  income,  the  little  family 
counted  themselves  well-to-do. 

As  the  months  passed,  the  boy  became  restless. 
He  was  probably  not  planning,  even  in  his  dreams, 
to  build  railroads,  but  he  did  feel  that  he  might  be 
doing  something  better  than  selling  nails  and  cali 
coes  in  a  village  store.  His  mother  believed  in  her 
boy  and  thought  he  ought  to  have  a  better  chance 
in  life;  and  so,  quite  in  the  story-book  fashion,  he 
started  off  one  morning  with  twenty  dollars  in  his 
pocket  and  a  bundle  swung  over  his  shoulder  on  a 
stick. 

Before  many  days  had  passed  he  was  in  Buffalo, 
with  a  dollar-a-day  job.  He  had  doubled  his  vil 
lage  salary,  and  he  sent  the  twenty  dollars  back  to 
his  mother.  Everybody  was  going  to  California  in 
those  days,  and  he  went  too  —  as  far  as  Davenport, 
Iowa;  thence  to  St.  Paul,  Minnesota.  At  the  office 
of  the  steamboat  company  he  asked  for  work.  In 
less  than  two  minutes  he  was  hired.  "If  you 


170  JAMES  JEROME  HILL 

have  n't  sense  enough  to  use  figures,  you  are  surely 
strong  enough  to  hustle,"  said  the  man  at  the  desk, 
looking  at  his  sturdy  figure. 

In  1856  Minnesota  built  her  first  railroad.  It 
was  ten  miles  long;  it  had  one  engine  and  about  a 
dozen  open  freight-cars.  These  were  not  especially 
well  filled,  because  it  was  quite  as  easy  to  float  logs 
down  the  river  as  to  carry  them  to  the  railroad  and 
load  them  into  freight-cars;  and  the  route  did  not 
pay.  A  new  company  bought  it  out,  gave  it  the 
ambitious  name  of  "St.  Paul  and  Pacific,"  and  ex 
tended  it  to  connect  with  a  line  of  steamers  running 
north  down  the  Red  River  to  Winnipeg.  James 
Hill  was  also  a  connecting  link  between  road  and 
river,  for  he  had  for  some  time  been  interested  in 
the  steamship  line,  and  he  now  became  the  St.  Paul 
agent  of  the  railroad. 

This  was  not  a  very  magnificent  position,  for  the 
road  was  not  a  success,  and  it  owed  a  large  amount 
of  money;  more  than  it  could  ever  pay,  said  the 
wise  folk  who  took  the  trouble  to  give  it  a  thought. 
There  was  one  man,  however,  who  believed  in  the 
shabby  little  railway,  and  that  was  James  Hill.  He- 
had  been  over  the  country  between  St.  Paul  and 
Winnipeg  in  both  summer  and  winter,  and  he  knew 
it  thoroughly.  He  knew  that  it  was  fertile  land 
and  that  it  would  raise  wheat.  But  there  must  be 
settlers  to  plant  the  wheat,  and  there  must  be  a 
railroad  to  carry  the  crop  to  market. 

He  succeeded  in  persuading  several  men  of  means 
and  enterprise  that  the  road  was  worth  saving,  pro- 


BUILDER  OF  RAILROADS  171 

vided  the  bondholders,  chiefly  Dutchmen,  would 
sell  out  at  a  low  price.  The  Dutchmen  sent  repre 
sentatives  over  from  Holland,  and  when  they  had 
learned  the  condition  of  the  property,  they  agreed 
to  sell  the  bonds  at  less  than  half  their  face  value. 
The  four  men  formed  a  company,  and  Hill  became 
general  manager  —  which  meant  that  he  had  the 
responsibility  of  making  the  road  pay. 

He  had  some  very  definite  ideas  of  how  this 
should  be  done.  If  he  could  fill  the  country  with 
prosperous,  contented  settlers  and  the  railroad 
served  them  well,  its  fortune  would  be  made.  He 
set  to  work  to  improve  the  miles  of  the  decrepit  old 
road,  and  to  extend  them;  and  this  one  man  was 
the  inspiration  of  the  whole  work.  The  summers 
were  hot  and  the  winters  were  cold;  but  somehow, 
either  by  dog-sled,  on  horseback,  or  on  foot,  he 
managed  to  be  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  espe 
cially  where  he  was  not  expected.  It  was  said 
that  he  knew  every  spike  that  went  into  the  road. 
At  an  average  rate  of  three  and  one  fourth  miles  for 
every  \vorking  day,  the  railroad  was  pushed  on  to 
the  westward,  through  Minnesota,  Dakota,  Mon 
tana,  Idaho,  Washington,  to  Puget  Sound.  Never 
had  a  railroad  been  built  so  rapidly  before. 

To  drive  on  the  building  of  six  thousand  miles  of 
railroad  would  generally  be  enough  to  occupy  one 
man,  but  Mr.  Hill  was  at  the  same  time  attending 
to  the  other  side  of  the  business,  he  was  filling  the 
country  with  people.  To  genuine  settlers  he  made 
prices  of  land  low  and  terms  of  payment  easy. 


172  JAMES  JEROME  HILL 

Moreover,  he  did  not  leave  them  to  struggle  on 
alone  after  they  had  bought  the  land,  for  he  im 
ported  farm  horses  and  cattle  to  make  sure  that 
they  had  the  best  stock.  Seeds  and  farm  imple 
ments  were  provided  at  much  less  than  market 
prices.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  comfortable 
homes  were  established  in  the  "Jim  Hill  country." 
Mr.  Hill  himself  set  up  a  model  farm  near  St.  Paul, 
and  there  he  ran  an  "experimental  station,"  giv 
ing  the  farmers  the  benefit  of  his  experiments. 

There  was  no  question  that  hundreds  of  millions 
of  bushels  of  grain  could  be  raised  in  Minnesota 
alone;  but  it  would  be  of  small  value  to  either  the 
settlers  or  the  world  unless  it  could  be  carried  away 
from  the  grain  fields  and  distributed  where  it  was 
needed.  Moreover,  it  must  be  carried  cheaply;  and 
here  was  one  of  the  problems  that  Mr.  Hill  had  been 
solving.  This  general  manager  "hated  like  poison 
an  empty  box-car  on  one  of  his  trains."  Hauling 
an  "empty"  was  the  same  thing  as  carrying  freight 
for  nothing,  and  was  a  loss  to  the  railroad.  The 
people  on  the  Pacific  Coast  were  glad  to  get  the 
grain  of  the  East,  but  they  were  comparatively  few 
in  number,  and  had  not  much  to  return.  The  re 
sult  was  that  freight-cars  from  Minnesota  to  the 
Pacific  Northwest  were  loaded ;  but  from  the  North 
west  back  to  Minnesota  they  were  often  empty; 
and  every  empty  car  made  freight  more  expensive. 

Mr.  Hill  had  not  built  the  Great  Northern  with 
out  foreseeing  that  this  would  happen,  and  rinding  a 
remedy.  In  the  Northwest  was  the  best  lumber  in 


174  JAMES  JEROME  HILL 

the  world.  There  was  no  market  for  it  because  the 
other  railroads  had  charged  ninety  cents  to  carry 
one  hundred  pounds  East.  He  called  together  the 
principal  lumbermen  and  asked,  "How  much  can 
you  afford  to  pay  for  freight  on  lumber?" 

"Sixty- five  cents  a  hundred,"  they  replied. 

"No,"  objected  this  original  manager;  "you 
could  send  a  little  at  that  rate,  but  you  could  not 
move  any  large  amount  if  you  paid  more  than  fifty 
cents  a  hundred."  This  was  something  new,  and 
the  lumbermen  began  to  open  their  eyes.  Mr.  Hill 
continued,  "I  will  give  you  a  rate  of  forty  cents  on 
fir  and  fifty  cents  on  cedar." 

The  result  of  this  was  that  there  were  long  lines 
of  cars  loaded  with  lumber,  so  many,  indeed,  that 
trade  actually  began  to  swing  the  other  way,  and 
soon  the  "empties"  were  not  going  east,  but  west; 
that  is,  they  would  have  been  if  the  general  mana 
ger  had  not  been  looking  out  for  this  very  state 
of  things  and  providing  a  remedy  before  it  came 
to  pass.  He  had  been  sending  men  to  Japan  and 
China  and  India,  and  he  planned  a  great  business 
in  carrying  wheat  to  Asia  and  bringing  back  Asi 
atic  products.  He  had  built  two  huge  ships  to  ply 
between  our  Pacific  Coast  and  the  Orient;  but  laws 
forbidding  railroads  to  make  competitive  rates  or 
to  own  steamship  lines  made  it  impossible  to  carry 
out  his  schemes  for  building  up  this  foreign  trade. 

Mr.  Hill  maintained  strict  discipline,  but  he 
never  tried  to  put  himself  on  a  pedestal  away  from 
his  men.  King  Albert  of  Belgium  was  his  friend, 


BUILDER  OF  RAILROADS  175 

and  as  his  guest  had  been  over  the  Great  Northern 
Railway.  In  later  years,  when  some  one  spoke  of 
the  King's  friendliness  with  his  subjects,  he  said  he 
had  learned  that  from  Mr.  Hill's  manner  toward  his 
men. 

On  Mr.  Hill's  seventy-fifth  birthday,  the  Veteran 
Employees'  Association  held  a  celebration;  and  the 
older  ones  among  the  employees  swapped  jokes  and 
stories  with  him  as  freely  as  if  they  were  boys  on  a 
fishing  trip.  In  response  to  an  address  he  said,  "It 
has  not  been  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  play 
first  violin  in  the  Great  Northern  band  .  .  .  but 
somebody  must  lead  the  band,  or  there  won't  be 
harmony."  Three  months  after  his  death  this  same 
Association  wrote  of  him,  "While  we  respected 
and  admired  him,  first  and  before  all,  and  every  year 
more  and  more,  we  loved  him." 

And  yet  this  man  never  curried  favor  with  his 
employees  or  any  one  else;  but  he  was  never  in 
tentionally  unjust,  and  when  he  was  sure  that  he 
was  in  the  right,  no  power  could  move  him.  A 
conductor  on  the  railroad  was  once  discharged  for 
breaking  rules.  He  had  a  strong  political  "pull," 
and  soon  one  United  States  Senator  and  two  judges 
asked  that  he  be  put  back  into  his  position.  Mr. 
Hill  replied:  "We  are  charged  with  the  responsi 
bility  for  lives  and  property  committed  to  our  care. 
The  responsibility  is  a  heavy  one,  and  we  cannot 
discharge  it  by  retaining  undesirable  trainmen  in 
our  employ.  I  am  surprised  that  these  judges 
should  so  far  lower  themselves  as  to  make  their 


176  JAMES  JEROME  HILL 

request.  They  certainly  should  know  better.  .  .  . 
We  have  difficulty  enough  in  securing  good  men, 
and  this  difficulty  would  be  greatly  increased  if  we 
paid  any  attention  to  such  requests,  even  from  the 
Bench." 

As  the  world's  greatest  expert  in  transportation 
Mr.  Hill  spoke  in  1912  on  that  subject,  and  put  his 
finger  on  the  weak  spot  in  the  transportation  sys 
tems.  When  traffic  is  blocked,  he  said,  and  the 
railroad  yards  are  filled  with  cars  that  cannot  be 
moved,  the  railroad  is  losing  money,  business  men 
are  losing  trade,  and  the  workers  are  losing  employ 
ment.  Transportation  must  move  freely  and 
easily;  but  how?  People  talk  of  a  car  shortage, 
when  they  mean  slowness  of  movement  at  the 
terminals;  that  is,  time  lost  in  getting  into  or  out 
of  or  through  terminal  points  because  there  is  not 
room  enough  to  handle  the  cars.  More  cars  would 
only  make  matters  worse.  "If  you  increase  the 
size  of  a  bottle  without  enlarging  its  neck,  more 
time  and  work  are  required  to  fill  and  empty  it,'' 
said  this  keen-eyed  man.  "What  is  needed  is  not 
more  cars,  but  larger  terminals." 

Among  the  many  subjects  in  which  Mr.  Hill  was 
interested  was  one  of  the  questions  that  are  press 
ing  upon  us  to-day.  He  saw,  as  students  had  seen 
before  him,  that  the  number  of  inhabitants  in  the 
world  was  increasing  much  more  rapidly  than  the 
amount  of  food.  These  students  had  dolefully 
predicted  that  the  time  would  surely  come  when 
vast  numbers  of  people  must  die  of  starvation. 


BUILDER  OF  RAILROADS  177 

Mr.  Hill  regarded  the  matter  quite  as  seriously  as 
they;  but  he  had  a  remedy,  and  this  remedy  was 
conservation ;  which  every  one  talks  about  now,  but 
which  few  even  thought  about  then.  The  ground 
is  all  that  we  have  to  depend  upon,  he  said,  and 
therefore  we  must  plough  deeply,  fertilize,  practice 
rotation  of  crops;  in  short,  the  quantity  of  food 
which  an  acre  produces  must  be  made  to  increase 
as  fast  as  the  population.  Then,  too,  we  must  take 
care  of  the  iron,  coal,  oil,  etc.,  of  the  earth,  for  there 
is  no  more  to  come.  We  must  use  lumber  wisely 
and  carefully,  because  it  takes  many  years  for  a 
tree  to  grow. 

This  address  went  everywhere.  President  Roose 
velt  called  the  governors  of  the  States  to  meet  at 
the  White  House  to  consider  how  the  natural  re 
sources  of  the  land  could  best  be  conserved  and  to 
listen  to  Mr.  Hill.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the 
National  Conservation  Commission.  In  his  later 
speeches  Mr.  Hill  carried  his  ideas  farther.  He 
showed  that  during  the  nine  years  before  that  time, 
State  expenses  had  increased  201  per  cent,  while 
State  wealth  had  increased  by  only  65  per  cent. 
"You  cannot  eat  your  cake  and  have  it  too,"  he 
said.  Public  money  spent  carelessly  and  uselessly 
throws  a  heavy  burden  upon  labor  and  prevents  a 
real  national  progress. 

In  giving  up  the  presidency  of  the  Great  Northern 
he  had  said,  "Most  men  who  have  really  lived  have 
had,  in  some  shape,  their  great  adventure.  This 
railway  is  mine."  But  his  name  became  as  closely 


JAMES  JEROME  HILL 

associated  with  conservation  as  with  railroads.  He 
was  asked  to  contribute  a  limerick  in  aid  of  some 
charity,  and  this  is  what  he  sent: 

"There  was  a  young  farm  in  the  West, 
So  much  overworked  and  hard-pressed 
That  it  wearily  said: 
'  I  '11  just  take  to  my  bed 
And  drop  through  to  China  to  rest.' 

"  But  alas!  when  the  roots  of  the  trees 
Caught  the  eye  of  the  frugal  Chinese, 
They  proceeded  to  pounce, 
And  to  plant  every  ounce 
Of  that  Farm  to  Potatoes  and  Peas." 


JOHN  MUIR 

THE  MAN  WHO  LOVED  TREES  AND  MOUNTAINS 

1838-1914 

1890,  instrumental  in  establishment  of  Yosemite  National  Park 

"BAIRNS,"  said  a  Scotch  father  to  his  two  boys, 
"you  needna  learn  your  lessons  the  nicht,  for  we're 
gan  to  America  the  morn!" 

These  boys,  John  Muir  and  his  brother  David, 
went  to  school  in  the  old-fashioned  way.  Every 
day  they  had  to  learn  three  lessons  in  Latin,  three  in 
French,  and  three  in  English,  besides  spelling,  his 
tory,  arithmetic,  and  geography;  and  for  every  mis 
take  the  taws,  or  leather  strap,  was  promptly  ap 
plied.  If  they  had  dared  to  say  they  did  not  under 
stand  the  lesson  or  that  it  was  not  interesting,  the 
teacher  would  have  whipped  them  harder  than  ever 
to  bring  them  to  their  senses.  It  was  to  be  learned, 
and  that  was  all  there  was  to  the  matter. 

But  now  they  were  going  to  live  in  the  wilderness 
far  from  schoolhouses,  in  the  land  where  gold  was 
found  in  the  earth  and  sugar  in  the  trees.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  they  were  delighted.  Little  they  cared 
how  the  old  scow  of  a  sailing  vessel  tumbled  about 
on  the  six- weeks  voyage ;  they  were  too  happy  to  be 
seasick. 

Then  came  years  of  hard  work  on  the  unbroken 
soil  of  Wisconsin.  The  twelve-year-old  boy  had  to 
hold  the  plough  and  was  required  to  make  as  straight 


i8o  JOHN  MUIR 

furrows  as  a  man.  He  soon  had  to  split  rails,  make 
hay,  and  dig  wells.  From  four  in  the  morning  until 
nine  at  night  the  work  went  on.  Even  when  he 
dropped  in  the  field  from  sickness,  he  was  not  al- 
Iowed4  to  stop.  No  one  was  pampered  in  that  fam 
ily;  for  instance,  wood  was  a  burden  in  this  country 
of  forests,  but  to  cut  it  took  time,  and  in  the  whole 
house  only  one  tiny  stove  was  allowed.  The  stern 
discipline  of  Scotland  was  kept  up,  and  for  every 
act  of  disobedience  or  forgetfulness  a  thrashing  was 
waiting. 

In  spite  of  the  hardships  the  boys  managed  to  find 
a  good  deal  of  pleasure.  They  were  allowed  only 
two  holidays  in  the  whole  year,  the  Fourth  of  July 
and  New  Year's  Day ;  but  they  loved  the  woods,  the 
birds,  and  the  flowers;  they  petted  the  oxen  and 
horses  and  cat  and  dog;  they  learned  that  the  ani 
mals  loved  and  feared  and  suffered  just  as  people  do, 
that  they  were  true  to  their  friends,  and  were  well 
worthy  of  faithful  affection  in  return;  they  learned 
to  swim  and  dive  and  climb,  and  they  grew  strong 
and  hearty.  John  felt  very  proud  of  the  fact  that 
he  could  keep  ahead  of  the  hired  men  in  most  of  the 
farm  work. 

When  John  Muir  was  fifteen  or  sixteen  he  began 
to  be  hungry  for  books.  His  father  was  willing  that 
he  should  study,  provided  he  did  the  same  amount 
of  work  as  usual,  and  when  the  boy  begged  for  an 
advanced  arithmetic  one  was  bought  for  him.  In 
the  half-hour  at  noon  he  contrived  to  finish  the  book 
in  one  summer.  Then  he  took  up  algebra,  geom- 


LOVER  OF  TREES  AND  MOUNTAINS     181 

etry,  and  trigonometry.  He  borrowed  books  of  the 
neighbors;  but  the  household  rule  was  to  go  to  bed 
immediately  after  evening  prayers,  and  the  book- 
hungry  boy  could  rarely  snatch  ten  minutes  for 
reading.  "If  you  will  read,"  said  his  father  impa 
tiently,  "get  up  in  the  morning  and  read.  You  may 
get  up  in  the  morning  as  early  as  you  like."  He 
never  dreamed  that  his  son  would  be  up  at  one 
o'clock,  reading  or  working  on  some  machine  of  his 
own  invention;  but  he  had  given  his  word  and  he 
would  not  break  it.  And  what  did  the  boy  not  in 
vent?  There  were  water-wheels,  a  clock  that  would 
tell  the  day  of  the  week  and  the  month,  would  start 
fires  and  light  lamps,  besides  connecting  with  his  bed 
in  such  a  way  as  to  set  him  on  his  feet  at  any  desired 
time.  There  was  a  thermometer,  a  barometer,  a 
contrivance  that  would  feed  the  horses  at  any  hour, 
etc. 

He  thought  that  if  he  could  get  into  a  shop  he 
might  learn  how  to  become  an  inventor,  and  make 
money  enough  to  go  to  school.  "Take  your  ma 
chines  to  the  State  Fair,"  advised  an  admiring 
neighbor,  "and  every  shop  in  the  country  will  be 
open  to  you." 

So  it  was  that  John  Muir  made  his  start  in  the 
world.  His  capital  was  about  fifteen  dollars  arid  his 
clocks,  and  a  thermometer  made  of  an  old  wagon 
rod.  He  had  feared  that  perhaps  no  one  would  care 
to  look  at  things  made  of  wood,  and  he  was  genu 
inely  surprised  when  at  the  fair  he  was  respectfully 
told  to  choose  whatever  place  in  the  Fine  Arts  Hall 


182  JOHN  MUIR 

suited  him  best,  and  a  carpenter  should  make  him  a 
shelf.  He  won  a  prize  of  fifteen  dollars  and  a  di 
ploma. 

For  a  while  he  worked  in  a  shop,  but  it  did  not  giv^e 
him  the  help  that  he  had  hoped  for.  He  longed  for 
the  university  and  often  wandered  about  its  grounds, 
thinking  that  the  students  must  be  the  happiest 
young  fellows  in  the  world,  and  wishing  earnestly 
that  he  might  join  them.  At  length  he  screwed  up 
his  courage  and  went  to  the  president.  "I  want  to 
enter  college,"  he  said  timidly,  "but  I  have  been  to 
school  only  two  months  since  I  was  eleven  years  old." 

The  president  admitted  him  to  the  preparatory 
department,  and  a  few  weeks  later  he  entered  the 
freshman  class.  Four  years  he  spent  in  study, 
working  summers  at  farming  to  earn  the  money  for 
tuition  and  food.  The  tuition  he  paid  in  full,  but 
his  food  he  sometimes  cut  down  to  fifty  cents  a 
week.  One  winter  he  taught  a  district  school.  It 
was  part  of  his  work  to  start  the  schoolhouse  fire  at 
eight  every  morning.  This  was  easy  enough  —  for 
one  who  knew  how.  He  put  a  little  powdered 
chlorate  of  potash  and  sugar  on  the  stove-hearth 
near  some  shavings,  then  he  made  a  little  addition  to 
his  wooden  clock,  so  that  at  precisely  eight  it  let  a 
drop  of  sulphuric  acid  fall  upon  the  mixture.  Not 
one  morning  did  it  fail  him,  and  in  the  coldest  days 
the  schoolhouse  was  warm  before  the  children  ar 
rived.  "  You  won't  do  for  a  teacher,"  declared  the 
farmer  with  whom  he  was  boarding,  "you  are  in 
league  with  the  devil." 


LOVER  OF  TREES  AND  MOUNTAINS     183 

He  kept  up  his  inventing  while  he  was  at  college, 
and  many  years  after  he  had  left,  the  janitor  used  to 
show  people  his  room  -and  tell  long  stories  of  the 
wonders  that  had  been  produced  therein.  He  did 
not  take  any  regular  course,  but  selected  what  he 
thought  would  be  of  most  use  to  him;  chemistry, 
physics,  mathematics,  botany,  geology,  and  a  little 
Latin  and  Greek.  Then,  as  he  said,  he  "  wandered 
away  on  a  glorious  botanical  and  geological  excur 
sion  .  .  .  leaving  the  Wisconsin  University  for  the 
University  of  the  Wilderness." 

Whether  this  wilderness  was  north  or  south  made 
no  difference  to  him.  He  roamed  about  the  Great 
Lakes,  then  turned  toward  Florida.  He  went  on 
foot,  a  journey  of  a  thousand  miles.  Even  if  there 
had  been  railroads  going  his  way,  they  would  have 
been  of  little  use  to  him;  he  wanted  to  see  things, 
not  to  be  whizzed  past  them.  Just  where  he  was 
going,  he  knew  not,  and  he  cared  little,  for  was  not 
the  whole  wide  earth  his  playground  and  his  study? 
"I  always  know  where  I  am,  and  that  I  am  safe," 
he  wrote  later.  When  he  was  sleepy  he  lay  down 
wherever  he  happened  to  be.  If  he  happened  to  be 
in  the  right  place  this  method  of  sleeping  was  a  de 
light  ;  but  when  he  tried  sleeping  on  swampy  ground 
in  Florida  the  result  was  a  tropical  fever.  This 
prevented  him  from  going  to  South  America  and 
turned  his  steps  toward  California. 

Now  he  was  indeed  in  bliss.  He  explored  moun 
tains  and  canons ;  he  studied  the  Sequoia  gigantea,  or 
" Big  Trees";  he  traced  the  paths  of  ancient  glaciers 


184  JOHN  MUIR 

and  found  their  courses  clearer  than  those  of  the 
city  streets.  "Tracing  the  ways  of  glaciers  ...  is 
glorious  work,"  he  declared.  He  rejoiced  in  every 
thing,  "the  blessed  storms  and  calms,"  the  sunshine 
and  the  flowers,  the  frosty  mornings,  the  stars  and 
also  the  starless  nights,  the  clouds,  the  ''solemn 
gazing  moon,"  the  singing  of  the  birds,  the  music  of 
trees  and  waterfalls  and  avalanches. 

Once  he  took  a  ride  on  an  avalanche.  When  it 
started  and  caught  him  three  thousand  feet  up  on 
the  mountain-side,  he  threw  himself  on  his  back  and 
stretched  out  his  arms.  This  kept  him  from  sinking 
in,  and  he  rode  down  in  fine  shape,  covering  in  one 
minute  the  distance  that  it  had  taken  him  a  whole 
day  to  climb.  He  crept  to  the  top  of  a  pine-tree  in  a 
tempest  to  see  how  a  tree  feels  when  it  is  swayed 
back  and  forth  by  a  storm  wind.  An  earthquake 
was  to  him  only  "kind  Mother  Earth  trotting  us  on 
her  knee";  and  although  the  Indians  grunted  "No 
good!  No  good!"  and  even  the  birds  fled  in  alarm 
from  the  shaking  trees,  he  ran  out  of  his  cabin  cry 
ing,  "A  noble  earthquake!  A  noble  earthquake!" 
Once  he  slipped  behind  the  Yosemite  Fall  to  see  the 
moon  through  the  water,  and  was  in  fairyland  until 
the  wind  swayed  the  fall  toward  the  cliff  and  the 
masses  of  water  fell  upon  him  like  cobblestones.  In 
a  forest  of  the  Sierras  he  found  himself  on  one  side 
of  a  log  with  a  cinnamon  bear  on  the  other  side. 
They  stood  gazing  straight  into  each  other's  eyes. 
At  last  the  bear's  eyes  fell,  and  he  shambled  away. 
"That  was  the  time  you  should  have  had  a  gun, 


SEQUOIAS  IN  MARIPOSA  GROVE,  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA 

John  Muir  says,  "A  diameter  of  twenty  feet  and  a  height  of  275  is  perhaps  about 
the  average  for  anything  like  mature  and  favorably  situated  trees.  Specimens 
twenty-five  feet  in  diameter  are  not  rare,  and  a  good  many  approach  a  height  of 
three  hundred  feet.  Occasionally  one  meets  a  specimen  thirty  feet  in  diameter,  and 
rarely  one  that  is  larger." 


186  JOHN  MUIR 

John,"  remarked  a  friend  to  whom  he  told  the  story. 
"What  for?"  asked  Muir  quietly.  "The  carrying 
of  a  gun  means  a  heart  for  slaughter.  I  don't  kill 
things." 

Muir  describes  objects  in  nature  as  if  each  one 
was  his  special  friend.  To  him  waterfalls  differ  as 
much  as  persons.  One  fall  is  a  "  staid,  orderly, 
graceful,  easy-going  fall,  proper  and  exact  in  every 
movement  and  gesture";  another  " plunges  over  the 
brink  of  the  precipice  as  if  glad  to  escape  into  the 
open  air."  Trees  are  as  individual  as  cataracts;  the 
sugar-pine  is  "a  remarkably  proper  tree  in  youth  - 
a  strict  follower  of  coniferous  fashions."  The  red 
wood  branches  " become  excited"  if  any  accident 
happens  to  the  crown  of  the  tree,  and  try  their  best 
to  repair  the  damage. 

Muir  took  three  trips  to  Alaska,  and  here  he 
tramped  up  mountains  and  over  glaciers  to  his 
heart's  content.  He  sat  up  nights  to  listen  to  the 
roaring  of  the  crunching  ice ;  he  studied  the  flowers, 
talking  to  them  softly  in  the  broad  Scotch  of  his 
childhood:  uAh,  my  blue-eyed  darlin'!  Little  did  I 
think  to  see  you  here :  How  did  you  stray  away  from 
Shasta?"  He  talked  with  the  Indians  about  stars 
and  eclipses  and  glaciers.  They  eagerly  adopted 
him  as  a  member  of  their  tribe,  gave  him  an  Indian 
name,  and  promised  him  as  many  wives  as  he  chose 
if  he  would  only  stay  with  them  as  their  chief. 
From  those  three  visits  he  gave  to  his  countrymen 
not  only  a  revelation  of  the  marvels  of  Alaska,  but 
one  of  the  best  dog  stories  in  the  world,  the  tale  of 


LOVER  OF  TREES  AND  MOUNTAINS     187 

"Stickeen,"  the  devoted  little  dog  who  adopted 
Muir  as  his  master  and  shared  with  him  the  worst 
perils  of  the  glaciers. 

John  Burroughs,  too,  went  on  one  of  the  Arctic 
expeditions.  Early  one  morning  he  called  to  his 
friend,  wTho  was  sleeping  between  decks: 

"John  Muir,  you  should  have  been  up  here 
twenty  minutes  ago,  enjoying  this  wonderful  sun 
rise." 

"John  Burroughs,"  Muir  called  back,  "you 
should  have  been  up  here  twenty  years  ago  instead 
of  being  asleep  down  there  in  your  cabin  by  the 
Hudson." 

Muir  wandered  —  where  did  he  not  wander? 
The  wonderful  petrified  forests  of  Arizona  were  his 
discovery.  He  went  to  Africa,  India,  Siberia,  Aus 
tralia,  South  America,  New  Zealand.  "Going  to 
the  mountains  is  going  home,"  he  said,  and  with  a 
pocket-knife,  a  bag  of  bread,  and  a  little  tea  he 
would  set  out  for  a  stay  of  many  weeks  among  them. 
"  I  love  to  be  up  among  the  glaciers  and  mountains," 
he  declared  joyfully,  "up  where  God  is  making  the 
world." 

Muir  was  not  a  mere  nature-loving  tramp;  he  was 
a  valuable  citizen,  constantly  adding  to  the  knowl 
edge  of  his  countrymen  about  their  own  land.  He 
worked  hard  with  pen  and  voice  to  save  the  Yosem- 
ite  and  create  a  system  of  National  Parks.  "  Every 
body  needs  beauty  as  well  as  bread,"  he  wrote.  He 
aroused  people  to  save  what  remained  of  the  Big 
Trees.  "Through  all  the  eventful  centuries  since 


i88  JOHN  MUIR 

Christ's  time,  and  long  before  that,"  he  pleaded, 
"God  has  cared  for  these  trees,  saved  them  from 
drought,  disease,  avalanches,  and  leveling  tempests 
and  floods;  but  He  cannot  save  them  from  foolish 
men." 

He  pleaded  for  the  Hetch-Hetchy  Valley  as  if  for 
the  life  of  his  own  child,  but  he  pleaded  in  vain. 
Colleges  gave  him  their  degrees  and  begged  him  to 
accept  professorships;  but  to  save  the  Hetch- 
Hetchy  would  have  been  more  to  him  than  all  their 
honors.  The  Muir  Woods  near  San  Francisco  and 
the  Muir  Glacier  in  Alaska,  and,  more  than  these, 
the  love  of  nature  which  he  awoke  in  the  hearts  of 
thousands,  will  preserve  his  name. 


THEODORE  THOMAS 

THE  MAN  WHO  TAUGHT  US  TO  LOVE  MUSIC 
1835-1905 

1890,  Chicago  Symphony  Orchestra  organized 

WHEN  a  boy  of  two  years  asks  for  a  violin  he  is 
quite  likely  to  want  to  "ride  a  cock-horse"  with  it 
or  to  break  it  open  to  see  what  is  inside ;  but  when  the 
two-year-old  Theodore  Thomas  begged  his  father 
for  a  violin  it  was  because  in  his  baby  mind  he  real 
ized  that  from  this  came  the  music  ivhich  even  then 
he  loved.  He  meant  to  bring  out  that  music,  and 
when  his  father  gave  him  an  old  violin  he  seated 
himself  on  the  front  steps  and  scraped  away  on  the 
instrument  with  all  his  might,  trying  to  "make  it 
sing"  as  his  father  had  done. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  could  make  it  sing,  for 
his  father  soon  began  to  give  him  lessons  in  earnest. 
When  he  was  seven  he  could  play  any  music  that 
was  put  before  him;  and  if  he  could  help  it  he  would 
not  do  anything  but  play.  School  was  an  interrup 
tion,  and  whenever  he  dared  he  sat  writing  music 
instead  of  studying  his  lessons. 

"If  Theodore  continues  as  he  has  begun  he  will 
be  a  great  musician  one  of  these  days,"  said  his 
father;  and  it  seems  never  to  have  occurred  to 
either  father  or  mother  that  the  child  ought  to  be 
taught  anything  but  music.  Of  course  he  was 
displayed  as  a  prodigy.  Indeed,  he  said  long  after- 


THEODORE  THOMAS 

wards  that  he  could  not  remember  when  he  was  not 
playing  in  public  and  earning  money  to  help  sup 
port  the  family. 

When  he  was  ten  years  old  the  Thomas  family 
came  to  America.  Then  followed  fifteen  years  of 
the  queerest  kind  of  musical  education  that  a  boy 
ever  had.  He  played  for  dancing  at  parties;  once 
he  played  in  a  saloon  and  passed  round  his  hat 
afterwards;  he  was  a  member  of  a  small  orchestra; 
he  played  the  horn  in  a  marine  band  on  shipboard 
for  a  year.  He  was  left  to  do  much  as  he  liked, 
and  he  was  full  of  pranks.  One  story  is  told  of  his 
being  ''treed "  by  an  indignant  policeman ;  but  while 
the  policeman  scolded  there  came  from  the  top  of 
the  tree  such  a  merry  tune  that  he  stopped  his  lec 
ture  to  listen.  "It's  only  that  Thomas  boy,"  he 
said,  and  went  away  grinning.  Once  the  musician 
started  off  with  his  violin,  some  tickets  and  posters, 
a  horse,  and  a  big  pistol  for  the  robbers  for  whose 
attacks  he  was  boyishly  hoping,  and  made  a  South 
ern  tour.  He  would  ride  on  till  he  came  to  some 
place  that  pleased  him;  then,  when  his  money  was 
spent,  he  would  give  a  concert  to  pay  his  bills. 

It  certainly  was  a  queer  musical  education,  but 
it  was  an  education,  for  with  all  his  pranks  he  was 
always  in  earnest  with  his  music.  Even  when  he 
played  for  dancing  he  used  to  imagine  that  he  was 
practicing,  and  he  played  every  note  as  carefully  as 
if  he  was  performing  before  the  most  critical  audi 
ence.  He  kept  his  thoughts  clean  and  spotless. 
"I  avoid  vulgar  talk  and  the  reading  of  trashy 


HE  TAUGHT  US  TO  LOVE  MUSIC     191 

books,"  he  once  said.  "Otherwise,  when  I  come 
before  the  public  and  interpret  master-works,  and 
my  soul  should  be  inspired  with  noble  and  impress 
ive  emotions,  these  evil  thoughts  run  around  in  my 
head  like  squirrels  and  spoil  it  all.  A  musician 
must  keep  his  heart  pure  and  his  mind  clean."  Of 
course  he  improved,  and  of  course  he  succeeded. 
When  he  was  twenty- four  he  was  called  "  America's 
most  accomplished  violinist." 

When  a  man  is  fully  prepared  for  an  opportunity 
the  opportunity  is  almost  sure  to  come.  Theodore 
Thomas's  opportunity  came  one  evening  in  1860 
when  he  had  just  settled  himself  into  an  easy-chair 
fora  rest.  The  doorbell  rang.  "Our  conductor  is 
ill,"  said  a  messenger  from  the  opera  house  two 
blocks  away,  "and  the  audience  is  waiting.  Will 
you  come  and  conduct  the  opera?"  He  had  never 
conducted  an  opera  and  he  was  not  familiar  with 
the  one  listed  for  that  evening,  but  he  replied,  "I 
will."  He  got  himself  into  his  dress  suit,  hurried  to 
the  Academy  of  Music,  and  succeeded.  This  was 
the  beginning  of  his  conducting.  Dwight's  Journal 
of  Music  said  of  him,  "He  directs  the  performances 
of  venerable,  spectacled,  bald-headed  'cellists  and 
trombonists  old  enough  to  be  his  grandfathers." 

But  Theodore  Thomas  was  not  merely  "stand 
ing  around"  waiting  to  take  whatever  musical  po 
sition  might  be  offered  him ;  he  meant  to  devote  his 
life  to  one  thing,  and  that  was  to  interest  the 
American  people  in  really  good  music.  He  lived  in 
New  York,  and  he  hoped  that  he  could  teach  the 


192  THEODORE  THOMAS 

people  of  that  city  to  enjoy  and  appreciate  music  so 
sincerely  that  men  and  women  of  wealth  would 
endow  a  permanent  orchestra.  He  would  be  its 
conductor,  and  would  make  its  work  as  perfect  as 
any  in  the  world. 

He  never  forgot  that  his  audience  must  be  edu 
cated  into  enjoyment,  and  in  1866  he  began  by 
"Summer-Night  Concerts."  These  were  given  in 
cool,  airy  halls,  where  potted  palms  and  evergreens 
and  perhaps  a  fountain  made  the  place  seem  almost 
like  a  garden.  The  programs  were  not  mere  hap 
hazard  collections  of  musical  pieces;  they  were 
chosen  with  much  thought  and  were  carefully  ar 
ranged.  The  first  part  consisted  of  short,  light 
numbers  that  would  interest  people  and  amuse 
them,  but  not  serious  enough  for  the  wrath  of  the 
really  musical  part  of  the  audience  to  be  aroused 
by  the  inevitable  coming  in  of  the  tardy  folk.  After 
an  intermission  came  the  second  part,  never  heavy, 
but  of  deeper  and  more  classic  character.  After 
a  second  intermission  there  were  marches,  waltzes, 
and  a  richly  colored  overture  that  would  arouse 
the  audience  and  send  them  away  with  strains  of 
melody  haunting  their  memories.  He  would  never 
play  trash,  but  he  realized  that  the  people  in  gen 
eral  were  not  educated  in  music  and  that  they 
were  rather  afraid  of  the  words  "symphony"  and 
"classical."  His  method  was  to  make  his  pro 
grams  just  a  little  in  advance  of  the  general 
taste,  but  not  to  weigh  them  down  and  so  alarm 
his  audience.  Whatever  was  to  be  played,  whether 


KE  TAUGHT  US  TO  LOVE  MUSIC     193 

symphony  or  waltz,  he  always  studied  before  re 
hearsal  as  if  he  had  never  seen  it  before. 

This  was  all  most  excellent  for  the  people,  and 
the  conductor  had  the  great  pleasure  of  seeing  each 
year  that  his  audiences  liked  better  music  than  they 
had  cared  for  before;  but  still  his  life  was  hard  and 
wearing.  He  was  the  one  person  responsible  not 
only  for  the  quality  of  the  music,  but  for  the 
salaries  of  the  musicians.  If  concerts  failed,  there 
was  no  guarantee  fund  to  fall  back  upon.  Theodore 
Thomas  must  pay  the  men  of  his  orchestra  or  they 
must  go  unpaid.  He  did  his  best  to  pay  by  doing 
what  he  called  " going  on  the  Highway,"  that  is, 
by  making  every  year  a  concert  round  of  some 
thirty  of  the  principal  American  cities;  but  he  could 
not  altogether  avoid  debt. 

In  the  fall  of  1871  Thomas  and  his  orchestra  were 
drawing  near  to  Chicago  when  word  reached  them 
that  the  city  was  on  fire.  The  opera  house  was 
already  gone,  and  there  was  not  even  a  place  where 
they  could  spend  the  night.  According  to  his  con 
tract  Thomas  was  not  obliged  to  pay  salaries  if  fire 
or  flood  prevented  giving  concerts;  but  instead  of 
taking  advantage  of  this,  he  assumed  the  whole 
debt  for  salaries  and  expenses.  In  the  Centennial 
year  of  1876  he  was  asked  to  direct  the  music  of 
the  opening  ceremonies  at  the  Exposition  and  also 
to  produce  a  series  of  summer-night  concerts.  These 
concerts  would  pay  the  debts,  he  believed ;  but  it 
proved  that  visitors  to  the  Exposition  were  too  tired 
to  go  out  in  the  evening.  The  concerts  failed,  and 


194  THEODORE  THOMAS 

the  sheriff  seized  the  conductor's  only  property,  his 
valuable  musical  library.  A  good  friend,  however, 
bought  it,  left  it  in  his  care,  and  later  presented  it 
to  Mrs.  Thomas,  begging  her,  if  she  should  lend  her 
husband  any  one  of  the  books,  to  make  sure  that 
he  took  good  care  of  it.  There  seemed  so  little  hope 
of  Thomas's  ever  being  able  to  pay  the  debts  which 
he  had  assumed  that  he  was  urged  to  become  a  bank 
rupt;  but  he  refused,  and  in  time  they  were  all  paid. 

Thomas  was  one  of  the  most  kindly  of  men,  but 
when  reproof  was  deserved,  he  could  be  exceedingly 
severe.  For  several  years  he  was  at  the  head  of  the 
Cincinnati  College  of  Music.  One  day  some  of  the 
sopranos  were  inattentive,  and  he  reproved  them 
rather  curtly.  "He  treats  us  as  if  we  were  mem 
bers  of  his  orchestra! "  one  singer  exclaimed  in  wrath. 
Thomas  said  nothing  then,  but  as  he  passed  her  in 
going  out  he  said,  "Madame,  you  will  have  to  sing 
a  great  deal  better  than  you  do  now  before  I  shall 
treat  you  as  I  treat  the  members  of  my  orchestra." 

In  circumstances  that  would  have  embarrassed 
most  leaders  he  was  never  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
Once,  when  he  was  to  play  in  Chicago  on  the  eve  of 
a  presidential  election,  he  was  asked  to  end  the 
concert  with  the  " Star-Spangled  Banner."  The 
program  had  already  been  printed.  It  ended  with 
quiet,  gentle  music;  and  how  could  he  keep  the 
people  in  their  seats  and  make  a  transition  from 
this  to  a  patriotic  song?  His  wife  has  described 
how  he  managed  it:  "As  the  last  strains  of  the 
Massenet  Suite  were  still  vibrating  on  the  strings, 


HE  TAUGHT  US  TO  LOVE  MUSIC     195 

the  drums  began  a  double  roll  so  softly  that  it  was 
barely  audible.  Louder,  louder,  and  still  louder  it 
rose,  till  every  heart  began  to  beat  wildly  with  ex 
citement,  wondering  what  was  coming  next.  At 
last  the  moment  of  climax  was  reached,  and  then 
Thomas  turned  toward  the  audience,  motioned  to 
them  to  rise  and 
sing,  and  with  the 
full  power  of  the 
orchestra,  the  great 
organ,  the  chorus, 
and  the  five  thou 
sand  people  of  the 
audience,  all  joining 
together  in  one  stu 
pendous  maelstrom 
of  sound,  the  'Star- 
Spangled  Banner' 
was  given  such  a 
performance  as  is  not 
often  heard.  Many 
people  were  in  tears 
before  it  was  over, 
and  when  Thomas 
held  aloft  both  hands 

to  sustain  through  the  full  measure  its  final  glorious 
chord,  the  singing  was  merged  in  a  great  shout  — 
cheer  on  cheer  echoing  through  the  hall." 

Throughout  the  years  the  great  wish  of  the  con 
ductor  had  been  to  have  a  permanent  orchestra, 
and  without  his  knowledge  a  plan  was  being  quietly 


A  SNAPSHOT  PORTRAIT  OF  MR.  THOMAS 

This  was  taken  by  a  schoolboy  at  the  Cincin 
nati  Festival  of  1894,  and  has  become  one  of 
the  most  widely  known  pictures  of  the  cele 
brated  conductor. 


196 


THEODORE  THOMAS 


formed  to  bring  this  to  pass  in  Chicago.  In  1890 
fifty  of  that  city's  prominent  citizens  had  agreed 
to  form  a  guarantee  fund  for  an  orchestra  if  Thomas 
would  become  its  director.  The  contract  required 
the  director  to  be  responsible  for  "the  highest 
standard  of  artistic  excellence  in  all  performances," 
and  Thomas  was  delighted.  "All  my  life  I  have 
been  told  that  my  standard  was  too  high.  .  .  .  But 
now  I  am  not  only  to  be  given  every  facility  to 


PERISTYLE  AT  THE  WORLD'S  COLUMBIAN  EXPOSITION,  CHICAGO,  1893 

Symphony  Hall  is  shown  at  the  left.  Mr.  Thomas  as  musical  director  at  the  Ex 
position  conducted  a  series  of  125  concerts,  whose  programs  demonstrated  to  the 
world  the  musical  progress  of  America,  and  also  gave  Americans  an  opportunity  of 
hearing  all  the  best  works  of  the  most  famous  European  composers. 

create  the  highest  standard,  but  am  even  told  that 
I  shall  be  held  responsible  for  keeping  it  so!  I  have 
to  shake  myself  to  realize  it." 


HE  TAUGHT  US  TO  LOVE  MUSIC     197 

At  the  end  of  the  year  there  was  a  deficit,  as 
might  have  been  expected  in  a  new  undertaking, 
and  Thomas  was  delighted  to  find  that  this  was 
taken  as  a  matter  of  course.  But  as  year  after 
year  passed,  there  was  still  a  deficit.  The  director 
believed  that  no  orchestra  could  be  permanent 
and  successful  without  a  building  of  its  own.  He 
felt  sure  that  the  people  of  Chicago  would  provide 
that  building  if  the  matter  was  brought  before  them 
forcibly;  and  therefore  he  announced  that  he  should 
resign  and  go  elsewhere  if  a  building  fund  was  not 
raised  within  six  months.  The  trustees  explained  to 
the  public  the  advantages  and  necessity  of  a  smaller 
hall.  Then  a  subscription  was  taken.  Theodore 
Thomas's  work  of  teaching  people  to  love  music 
had  been  well  done,  for  on  the  list  were  the  names 
of  millionaires,  clerks,  and  scrubwomen,  the  educated 
and  the  uneducated,  but  all  lovers  of  music. 

The  hall  was  built,  following  just  as  far  as  possible 
the  ideas  of  the  director,  and  was  as  nearly  perfect 
as  a  hall  could  be.  There  was  a  superb  opening 
concert,  ending  with  Handel's  glorious  "Hallelujah 
Chorus,"  and  after  this  there  was  a  happy  meeting 
of  old  friends  at  the  Thomas  home,  come  to  con 
gratulate  the  Master.  And  congratulations  were 
due  to  him.  When  hardly  more  than  a  boy  he  had 
chosen  a  lofty  work,  that  of  revealing  to  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  busy  Americans  the  pleasure  and 
restfulness  and  inspiration  of  music.  He  had  re 
fused  to  lower  his  standards.  Without  thought  of 
himself  or  his  own  gain  he  had  given  to  the  world 


198  THEODORE  THOMAS 

his  noblest  and  his  best.  As  George  William 
Curtis  says  of  him:  "He  has  made  the  conductor's 
baton  an  imperial  scepter,  with  which  he  rules  not 
only  an  orchestra,  but  an  ever-widening  realm  of 
musical  taste  and  cultivation.  In  his  hand  it  has 
been  an  enchanted  wand,  which  has  transformed 
our  musical  ignorance  and  crudity  into  ample 
knowledge  and  generous  appreciation," 


THOMAS  ALVA  EDISON1 

INVENTOR 
1847- 

1893,  the  incandescent  light  first  used  on  a  large  scale  (at  the 
World's  Columbian  Exposition) 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  small  boy  who  al 
ways  stood  at  ,the  foot  of  his  class.  One  day  he 
heard  his  teacher  say  that  his  brain  was  " addled," 
and  there  was  no  use  in  his  coming  to  school.  The 
little  fellow  was  not  too  dull  to  know  what  that 
meant.  He  burst  into  tears  and  went  home  to  tell 
his  mother. 

The  mother  was  a  very  indignant  woman,  and 
she  stood  firmly  by  her  little  son.  She  declared 
that  he  had  plenty  of  brains  and  she  should  teach 
him  herself.  She  succeeded,  and  when  he  was  only 
nine  he  had  read  or  she  had  read  to  him  such  books 
as  Hume's  History  of  England  and  Gibbon's  Decline 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  both  works  in  many 
volumes  and  not  especially  easy  reading,  even  for 
grown-ups. 

He  also  read  books  on  science,  and  he  set  up  a 
chemical  laboratory  in  the  cellar.  But  both  books 
and  chemicals  cost  money,  and  he  appealed  to  his 
mother  to  let  him  become  a  train-boy.  He  could 
have  a  run  from  Port  Huron  to  Detroit,  earn  plenty 
of  money  for  his  experiments,  read  as  many  papers 

1  The  material  in  this  chapter  is,  by  permission,  based  upon 
William  H.  Meadowcroft's  Boy's  Life  of  Edison. 


200,  THOMAS  ALVA  EDISON 

and  magazines  as  he  chose,  and  have  several  hours 
every  day  in  Detroit.  He  must  have  shown  that 
he  could  be  trusted  or  his  mother  would  never  have 
agreed  to  let  a  boy  of  twelve  spend  seven  or  eight 
hours  a  day  alone  in  a  city.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
however,  he  was  in  the  best  of  company,  for  he 
spent  most  of  the  time  in  the  public  library  reading. 

There  is  a  picture  of  "  Al,"  as  he  was  then  called, 
at  fourteen,  with  a  bright,  cheery  face  and  the 
most  delightful  grin,  as  if  he  had  just  heard  the 
funniest  story  in  the  world.  He  was  a  wide-awake 
business  man  as  well  as  a  merry  boy,  and  when  the 
war  broke  out  he  picked  up  an  old  printing-press, 
bought  some  type,  and  proceeded  to  publish  a 
weekly  paper.  It  was  really  of  value,  because  the 
young  editor  could  get  the  latest  news  by  the  rail 
road  telegraph,  and  before  long  it  had  a  circulation 
of  four  hundred. 

By  and  by  came  the  battle  of  Shiloh.  Perhaps 
the  boy  did  not  know  much  about  Shiloh,  but  he 
did  know  that  if  there  were  crowds  before  the  bul 
letin  boards  in  Detroit,  there  would  be  at  least  one 
thousand  people  on  his  route  who  would  want  the 
news.  He  bribed  the  telegraph  operator  at  the 
station  to  telegraph  the  news  ahead.  Then  he  told 
the  editor  of  the  Detroit  Free  Press  what  he  had 
done  to  make  sure  of  trade  and  asked  for  credit. 
"I  can  pay  for  three  hundred  papers,"  he  said, 
"but  I  want  a  thousand.  Will  you  trust  me?" 
He  was  trusted,  and  he  sold  every  paper.  Indeed, 
there  were  not  nearly  enough  to  go  around. 


INVENTOR  201 

One  day  "Al"  saved  a  little  child  from  being  run 
over  by  a  train,  and  the  grateful  father  said,  "I 
cannot  reward  you  in  money,  but  I  can  teach  you 
to  telegraph  and  get  you  a  situation."  "Al" 
engaged  a  friend  to  take  part  of  the  run;  but  even 
then,  with  his  telegraphy,  chemistry,  and  train 
work,  he  was  a  very  busy  boy.  It  was  through 
chemistry  that  misfortune  befell  him,  for  a  stick  of 
phosphorus  among  his  chemicals  on  the  train  took 
fire  and  set  the  car  ablaze.  The  conductor  put  out 
the  fire,  and  then  he  himself  was  ablaze  —  with 
wrath.  He  boxed  the  boy's  ears,  thereby  making 
him  deaf  for  life,  and  then  dumped  boy  and  chemi 
cals  and  printing-press  off  at  the  next  station. 
There  was  no  more  room  for  him  on  that  train. 

He  decided  to  become  a  telegrapher.  This  boy 
of  sixteen  was  never  satisfied  until  he  could  do 
his  work  in  the  best  and  quickest  way.  He  gave 
eighteen  hours  a  day  to  practice,  and  he  worked 
on  penmanship  until  he  was  convinced  that  he  had 
found  the  fastest  style  of  writing.  There  are 
stories  without  end  of  his  life  as  an  operator.  One 
is  that  when  an  ice-jam  had  broken  the  cable  be 
tween  Port  Huron  and  Sarnia,  he  borrowed  the 
steam  whistle  of  a  locomotive  and  made  the  long 
and  short  signals  of  the  Morse  code.  After  a  while 
an  operator  on  the  Sarnia  shore  caught  the  idea, 
and  communication  was  restored.  Later,  the  man 
ager  of  his  office  was  put  into  a  military  prison  - 
no  one  knew  why  —  and  Edison  "telegraphed"  to 
him  by  stretching  his  arm  out  of  the  window'  and 


202  THOMAS  ALVA  EDISON 

making  long  and  short  motions.  Wherever  he 
went  and  whatever  he  was  given  to  do,  he  always 
invented  some  way  to  improve  upon  the  usual 
methods. 

In  the  course  of  his  wanderings  as  an  operator  he 
asked  for  a  position  in  Boston.  He  was  engaged, 
but  the  other  operators  set  him  down  as  a  green 
horn,  and  wickedly  arranged  to  have  him  take  a 
report  from  the  fastest  operator  in  New  York. 
Edison  went  on  serenely  without  the  least  trouble, 
writing  out  the  matter  in  his  clear  handwriting, 
while  the  others  gazed  over  his  shoulder  in  amaze 
ment.  When  he  thought  the  joke  had  gone  far 
enough  he  opened  the  key  and  remarked  to  the  man 
in  New  York,  ''Say,  young  man,  change  off  and 
send  with  your  other  foot." 

All  this  time  he  was  experimenting  in  chemistry 
and  electricity,  and  of  course  he  sometimes  met 
with  accidents.  One  day  he  splashed  himself  with 
nitric  acid,  and  could  not  appear  on  the  streets  for 
two  weeks.  He  tipped  over  a  carboy  of  sulphuric 
acid,  which  went  through  the  floor  to  the  room 
below  and  ate  up  the  manager's  carpet  and  desk. 
The  next  morning  he  was  told  that  he  might  get 
his  pay  and  leave;  the  company  wanted  operators, 
not  experimenters. 

When  Edison  was  twenty-two  he  concluded  to  go 
to  New  York.  He  was  always  out  of  money  be 
cause  he  spent  it  on  experiments  as  fast  as  he  got 
it,  and  he  found  himself  in  the  city  with  only  one 
dollar,  and  that  a  borrowed  one.  He  got  permission 


INVENTOR  203 

to  sleep  in  the  battery  room  of  the  Gold  Indicator 
Company.  This  was  after  the  Civil  War.  It  was 
not  certain  that  the  Government  would  be  able  to 
pay  its  debts,  and  therefore  a  gold  dollar  was  worth 
more  than  a  greenback.  The  price  of  greenbacks 
went  up  and  down.  People  speculated  in  them, 
and  this  Gold  Indicator  Company  had  put  indi 
cators  into  the  offices  of  three  hundred  brokers. 

Edison  was  studying  the  various  instruments 
when  there  was  one  big  crash,  and  everything 
stopped,  not  only  in  this  office,  but  also  in  every 
one  of  the  three  hundred.  The  manager  was  half 
wild,  and  when  Edison  said  that  he  could  fix  the 
indicator,  he  cried,  "Fix  it!  Fix  it!  and  be  quick!" 
In  two  hours  it  was  in  order.  Then  came  an 
official  interview.  "I  shall  put  you  in  charge  of 
the  whole  plant,"  the  manager  said.  "Your  salary 
will  be  three  hundred  dollars  a  month."  Edison 
was  almost  dazed,  but  he  said  to  himself,  "I  will 
try  and  live  up  to  that  salary,  if  twenty  hours  a 
day  of  hard  work  will  do  it." 

Edison  soon  invented  a  stock  ticker  that  was  a 
great  improvement  on  anything  then  in  use.  The 
Gold  and  Stock  Telegraph  Company  wished  to  buy 
it,  and  the  president  asked  how  much  he  thought 
he  ought  to  have  for  it.  The  inventor  really 
thought  he  had  earned  five  thousand  dollars,  but  he 
had  not  the  audacity  to  say  so,  and  he  replied, 
"Suppose  you  make  me  an  offer."  "How  would 
forty  thousand  dollars  strike  you?"  the  president 
asked.  It  struck  him  so  by  surprise  that  he  almost 


204  THOMAS  ALVA  EDISON 

fainted.  He  carried  to  the  bank  the  check  for 
forty  thousand  dollars,  the  first  check  that  he  had 
ever  received,  and  endorsed  it  after  it  had  been 
made  clear  to  him  that  this  was  the  proper  thing  to 
do.  He  knew  so  little  of  banking  that  when  the 
teller  gravely  and  mischievously  proceeded  to  hand 
him  package  after  package  of  small  bills,  he  put 
them  into  his  various  pockets  and  walked  away. 
He  had  a  use  for  that  money,  and  he  sat  up  all 
night  watching  it  for  fear  it  should  be  stolen  from 
him. 

He  was  not  yet  twenty-three,  and  he  had  forty 
thousand  dollars  which  he  had  earned  by  the  honest 
work  of  his  own  "addled"  brain.  He  spent  much 
of  the  money  in  opening  shops  to  manufacture 
tickers.  That  brain  was  now  at  work  on  his  old 
friend,  the  telegraph.  Sending  messages  was  even 
then  so  slow  that  a  first-class  operator  who  wrote 
rapidly  could  write  them  out  as  they  were  received. 
Edison's  inventions  made  it  possible  to  send  four 
messages  over  the  same  wire,  three  thousand  words 
a  minute,  and  also  printed  them  as  fast  as  they 
came  in. 

The  carbon  telephone  transmitter,  the  quadru- 
plex,  the  electric  light,  the  moving-picture  camera, 
the  electric  storage  battery,  the  phonograph,  the 
waxed  paper  in  which  candies  are  wrapped  —  these 
are  only  a  few  of  his  most  generally  known  inven 
tions.  "Won't  you  please  name  your  chief  in 
ventions?"  a  visitor  asked;  and  Edison  named 
seven  or  eight,  ending  with,  "Oh,  I  don't  know,  a 


INVENTOR 


205 


Copyright  Thomas  A.  Edison  Inc. 

EDISON  IN  HIS  LABORATORY 

whole  lot  of  other  things."  He  does  not  invent  for 
the  sake  of  inventing,  but  because  he  sees  the  need 
of  something  that  will  add  to  the  comfort,  con 
venience,  safety,  or  pleasure  of  the  people.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  he  has  been  called  the  most  useful 
citizen  of  the  world. 


206  THOMAS  ALVA  EDISON 

Edison's  laboratory  is  at  Orange,  New  Jersey.  It 
contains  a  machine-shop,  rooms  for  experimenters, 
a  library  of  many  thousand  volumes,  cabinets  of 
minerals  from  all  over  the  world,  a  stock-room  in 
which  are,  as  far  as  can  be  managed,  specimens  of 
every  known  substance  that  can  be  kept  without 
spoiling.  This  means  not  only  chemicals,  but  also 
fur,  feathers,  bones,  shells,  woods,  roots,  gums, 
cotton,  silk,  wax,  cork,  pitch,  all  kinds  of  metals  — 
there  is  no  end  to  the  variety,  for  Edison  aims  at 
having  within  reach  of  his  hand  every  substance 
that  he  may  chance  to  want. 

But  a  million  men  might  have  all  this  collection 
and  not  produce  one  invention  in  a  century;  how 
does  Edison  do  it?  What  is  there  in  him  that  is  not 
in  the  men  who  invent  nothing,  and  see  nothing  to 
invent,  but  plod  along  in  the  same  old  way? 

In  the  first  place  he  has  a  strong  imagination. 
He  sees  in  his  mind  just  what  results  he  wants  to 
reach.  In  the  second  place,  it  never  occurs  to  him 
that  he  can  give  up  a  quest,  and  he  is  never  dis 
couraged.  The  story  is  told  that  once,  after  sev 
eral  thousand  experiments  had  failed  to  accomplish 
what  was  wanted,  an  assistant  remarked  that  it 
was  a  shame  to  have  worked  all  those  weeks  with 
no  results.  "No  results!"  Edison  exclaimed. 
"Why,  man,  I  have  a  lot  of  results!  I  know  several 
thousand  things  that  won't  work.'* 

Edison  himself  says  that  his  methods  are  the 
same  as  those  of  Luther  Burbank.  Out  of  thou 
sands  of  plants  Burbank  picks  out  perhaps  only  one 


INVENTOR  207 

that  shows  promise  of  what  he  is  after.  The  seeds 
of  this  one  he  uses  to  develop  the  variety  of  which 
he  is  in  search.  So  Edison,  having  a  definite  result 
in  mind,  chooses  from  thousands  of  experiments  the 
one  that  promises  the  result  that  he  wants.  "But, 
after  all,  Mr.  Edison,"  he  was  asked,  "is  n't  your 
success  due  to  genius?"  "Genius,"  said  Edison, 
"is  one  per  cent  inspiration  and  ninety-nine  per 
cent  perspiration." 

Edison  has  never  blundered  along  vaguely  in  the 
hope  that  some  time  he  would  happen  to  put  the 
right  things  together;  he  has  worked  intelligently 
and  thoughtfully  —  and  how  he  has  worked !  To 
experiment  sixty  hours  on  a  stretch  is  not  unusual 
with  him.  He  knows  how  to  turn  sharp  corners, 
and  rests  by  going  from  one  invention  to  another, 
or  from  hard  work  to  a  bit  of  fun  or  a  good  story. 
He  can  take  a  table  for  a  bed,  a  book  or  two  for  a 
pillow,  fall  asleep  in  half  a  minute,  and  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  be  ready  for  work  again. 

As  to  his  working  hours,  he  has  none.  He  does 
not  carry  a  watch  and  knows  little  about  time;  his 
day's  labor  is  done  when  he  gets  his  results,  and  not 
before.  Of  course  many  people  have  asked  him  to 
what  he  ascribed  his  success.  His  answer  always 
is,  "To  never  looking  at  the  clock." 


EDWIN  AUSTIN  ABBEY 

ILLUSTRATOR  AND  PAINTER 
1852-1911 

1895-1902,  painted  "The  Quest  of  the  Holy  Grail, "  a  frieze  in  the 
Boston  Public  Library 

EDWIN  ABBEY'S  father  and  mother  had  the  life  of 
their  son  nicely  arranged  in  their  own  minds. 
They  would  give  him  a  good  education,  he  would 
become  a  doctor  or  minister  or  lawyer,  he  would 
continue  to  live  in  Philadelphia,  and  would  become 
one  of  her  most  respected  and  honored  citizens. 

This  was  what  they  planned,  but  somehow  the 
boy  did  not  seem  inclined  to  follow  the  plan.  He 
went  to  school,  of  course.  He  did  not  stand  at  the 
foot  of  the  class;  but,  alas,  he  was  nowhere  near  the 
head.  He  read  everything  that  came  to  hand,  and 
he  did  not  object  to  being  educated,  but  he  took  no 
special  interest  in  the  process.  There  was  just  one 
thing  in  which  he  did  take  interest,  and  that  was 
drawing.  He  would  have  liked  to  take  lessons  in 
drawing,  but  his  father  did  not  approve.  If  the 
son  would  not  become  a  member  of  one  of  the  three 
learned  professions,  he  should  at  least  become  a 
substantial,  self-supporting  citizen,  not  a  mere 
picture-making  man.  There  was  the  printing 
trade.  Often  it  led  to  something  higher;  his  son 
should  learn  printing. 

So  it  was  that  the  boy  was  put  into  the  printing 


ILLUSTRATOR  AND  PAINTER        209 

office  of  the  Public  Ledger,  of  Philadelphia.  Per 
haps  there  was  a  bargain  between  him  and  his 
father,  for,  although  he  learned  to  set  type,  he  was 
allowed  to  have  lessons  in  drawing  for  an  hour 
three  times  a  week,  at  the  Pennsylvania  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts. 

The  owner  of  the  Ledger  was  George  William 
Childs.  He  was  a  man  who  could  see  what  was 
going  on  around  him,  and  he  soon  noticed  that  the 
young  man  was  not  especially  interested  in  type 
setting.  After  a  little  talk  he  found  out  that  the 
ambition  of  his  apprentice  was  not  to  become  an 
editor,  but  to  draw  pictures,  and  he  examined  some 
of  young  Abbey's  sketches.  They  seemed  to  Mr. 
Childs  full  of  promise,  and  a  kindly  note  from  him 
to  the  editor  of  Harper's  Weekly  sent  a  happy  young 
man  with  a  portfolio  over  to  New  York  to  the  Art 
Department  of  the  Weekly.  He  was  engaged  at  a 
salary  of  seven  dollars  a  week;  not  a  very  enormous 
sum,  but  many  an  artist  of  nineteen  would  have 
been  glad  to  pay  much  more  for  the  chance  of  being 
on  this  paper. 

Abbey  put  his  best  work  into  whatever  he  under 
took;  but  before  long  it  was  clear  that  his  special 
delight  was  in  picturing  scenes  of  a  century  earlier, 
clumsy  stage-coaches  rolling  up  to  change  horses  at 
quaint  old  taverns;  ladies  with  bandboxes  and 
many  flounces;  drivers  with  bell-crowned  hats. 
The  people  of  his  pictures  were  often  amusing,  for 
he  did  like  a  touch  of  the  humorous,  but  they  were 
also  lovable.  It  was  all  done  with  accuracy  and 


210  EDWIN  AUSTIN  ABBEY 

daintiness,  and  was  altogether  delightful.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  his  drawings  soon  began  to  appear  in 
Harper's  Monthly  as  well  as  in  the  Weekly. 

This  was  a  step  forward ;  but  it  was  a  still  longer 
one  when  the  Harpers  decided  to  bring  out  a  de  luxe 
edition  of  the  poems  of  Herrick,  and  asked  Abbey 
to  illustrate  them.  To  do  this  he  was  to  spend  six 
months  in  England  and  see  for  himself  the  stately 
castles,  mossy  sundials,  fields  of  primroses,  thatched 
cottages,  shady  lanes,  and  charming  little  villages. 

Abbey  and  an  artist  friend  took  up  their  home  in 
the  Shakespeare  country,  in  a  rambling  house  some 
three  hundred  years  old,  and  he  set  to  work  hap 
pily.  He  drew  and  drew;  cavaliers  in  plumed  hats 
and  sweeping  cloaks;  tall  and  graceful  maidens  in 
high  puffed  sleeves,  playing  on  the  guitar  or  curtsy 
ing  to  some  young  gallant  with  wide  ruff  about 
his  neck  and  buckles  on  his  shoes.  He  drew  cow 
herds  playing  for  a  prize  on  oaten  pipes  before  the 
rustic  maiden  "Lalage."  They  are  tremendously 
in  earnest,  and  they  have  not  the  least  idea  that 
even  the  cows  in  the  background  are  looking  at  them. 
The  people  of  Abbey's  pictures  have  no  self-con 
sciousness;  they  do  not  know  that  they  are  sitting 
for  their  portraits.  They  are  always  alive,  and 
even  if  they  are  not  doing  anything  the  artist  man 
ages  to  make  it  clear  that  they  are  thinking  of 
something  in  which  we  too  are  interested.  The 
edition  of  Herrick  came  out  in  1882,  and  was  the 
first  of  Abbey's  illustrated  books. 

Abbey  spent  in  England,  not  six  months,  but  two 


ILLUSTRATOR  AND  PAINTER        211 

years.  He  loved  the  old  houses  and  the  country 
lanes,  the  winding  streets  of  the  little  villages,  the 
distant  glimpses  of  castles  and  cathedrals.  America 
was  dear  to  him,  but  England  was  the  country  of 
his  dreams,  the  place  where  he  could  best  do  the 
work  that  he  loved.  He  returned  to  America  for  a 
few  months,  then  made  his  home  in  England. 

He  had  great  talent  and  he  loved  his  work.  Some 
one  said  of  him  that  what  he  loved  was  not  "  draw 
ing  the  money,  but  doing  the  drawing."  Into 
everything  that  he  did  he  put  his  best  efforts. 
Many  artists  of  his  experience  and  ability  would 
have  drawn  the  less  important  illustrations  from 
fancy;  but  Abbey  was  never  satisfied  unless  he 
drew  his  figures  from  life  and  even  his  backgrounds 
directly  from  nature.  After  finishing  one  painting 
he  discovered  that  the  coat  of  arms  on  a  lady's 
dress  was  not  quite  accurate.  Probably  there  were 
not  ten  persons  in  the  world  who  would  have  no 
ticed  this,  but  he  painted  the  whole  skirt  over  again. 
He  took  quite  a  long  journey  to  see  for  himself 
some  peculiar  columns  that  he  wanted  to  bring  into 
a  scene.  He  never  undertook  a  picture  without 
studying  the  period  as  carefully  as  any  historian 
could  have  done.  He  made  himself  perfectly  at 
home  in  the  olden  times,  and  what  he  meant  to 
draw  became  so  clear  to  his  own  mind  that  he  could 
express  it  in  a  few  lines.  The  result  was  that  his 
pictures  are  never  foggy,  and  they  are  alwrays  con 
vincing.  When  we  look  at  one  we  feel  sure  that 
the  people  of  that  day  did  dress  and  bow  and  stand 


212  EDWIN  AUSTIN  ABBEY 

and  smile  exactly  as  he  has  made  them  do.  He 
not  o'nly  paints  them,  but  he  seems  to  feel  and  think 
with  them.  We  forget  that  we  are  looking  at  a 
picture,  and  think  of  it  rather  as  a  glimpse  into  the 
life  of  bygone  days. 

Before  1885  Abbey  was  recognized  as  one  of  the 
foremost  illustrators  of  the  day  in  black  and  white. 
He  was  also  using  with  great  success  both  water- 
colors  and  pastel,  and  he  had  done  some  excellent 
work  in  oils.  Possibly  he  would  have  been  content 
to  spend  his  time  chiefly  in  illustrating,  but  the 
American  girl  whom  he  had  married  believed  that 
he  had  even  more  ability  than  he  had  as  yet  shown, 
and  she  urged  him  to  devote  himself  to  oils.  She 
was  a  wise  woman,  for  in  1890  an  oil  painting  of  his 
was  accepted  by  the  Royal  Academy  and  was  hung 
"on  the  line." 

That  same  year  he  was  asked  to  decorate  the 
frieze  of  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  Boston  Public 
Library.  He  had  bought  a  beautiful  old  country 
place,  and  now  he  built  an  addition  to  the  house,  a 
"royal  studio,"  planned  expressly  for  the  Boston 
paintings.  It  was  seventy-five  feet  long  by  forty 
wide,  and  twenty  feet  in  height  —  space  enough  for 
a  dozen  painters.  Here  he  kept  chests  of  the  old 
costumes  in  which  he  delighted,  china,  furniture,  an 
cient  armor,  swords  and  spears,  exquisite  carvings, 
tapestries,  anything  and  everything  that  he  might 
wish  to  use  in  his  paintings;  and  now  he  set  to 
work  to  make  his  pictures. 

The  subject  was  left  to  him.     He  wanted  some- 


Copyright  1901  by  E.  A.  Abbey :  from  a  Copley  Print,  copyright  1902  by  Cvrti*  «r  Cameron,  Boston 

GALAHAD  THE  DELIVERER 

From  the  freeze  "  The  Quest  of  the  Holy  Grail.  "  This  is  the  twelfth  panel  in  the 
series  of  fifteen.  It  represents  Galahad,  surrounded  by  folk  thankful  for  services 
already  rendered  by  him,  about  to  ride  away  upon  his  last  great  adventure  in  his 
quest  for  the  Holy  Grail.  "  The  career  of  this  knight,  "  says  one  critic,  "may  be  said 
to  symbolize  the  experiences  of  mankind  in  the  pursuit  of  the  noblest  ideals,  the 
difficulties  that  beset  the  seeker,  the  temptations  which  he  encounters,  the  results 
that  he  achieves. " 


214  EDWIN  AUSTIN  ABBEY 

thing  with  dignity  and  significance,  something  old 
and  legendary;  and  in  order  to  suit  the  lengths  of 
paneling  it  must  be  not  one  scene,  but  a  continued 
story.  At  length  he  settled  upon  the  legend  of  the 
Holy  Grail,  the  cup  from  which  Jesus  was  said  to 
have  drunk  at  the  Last  Supper.  According  to  the 
legend  it  was  long  treasured,  but  finally,  as  the 
world  grew  evil,  it  vanished  from  the  eyes  of  men. 
To  find  it  was  a  favorite  quest  of  the  heroes  of 
romance;  and  at  last  Sir  Galahad  was  successful. 

No  two  versions  of  the  story  are  just  alike,  and 
Abbey  was  free  to  take  from  all  what  would  best 
suit  his  purpose,  and  to  lay  his  scenes  in  almost  any 
of  the  earlier  centuries.  He  chose  the  twelfth  cen 
tury,  and  now  began  study  in  earnest.  He  read 
with  the  utmost  care  English,  Norwegian,  French, 
and  German  versions  of  the  legend.  He  pored  over 
accounts  and  pictures  of  ancient  temples  and  pal 
aces.  He  studied  details  of  twelfth-century  cos 
tumes.  He  went  to  France  to  sketch  in  the  old 
churches.  He  went  to  Italy  to  draw  landscapes 
and  twelfth-century  architecture.  Long  before  he 
began  to  paint  his  mind  was  saturated  with  the 
story  and  its  surroundings. 

For  his  hero  he  takes  the  pure  Galahad,  who, 
after  the  death  of  his  mother,  is  brought  up  by  the 
nuns,  far  from  the  temptations  of  the  court.  In 
the  first  scene  the  infant  Galahad,  held  by  a  holy 
maiden,  stretches  out  his  baby  arms  to  the  Grail, 
which  he  alone  can  see.  In  the  second,  Galahad, 
clothed  in  red,  is  kneeling  before  the  altar  in  all- 


ILLUSTRATOR  AND  PAINTER        215 

night  vigil  before  his  search  for  the  Grail  begins. 
The  next  scene  is  in  the  great  hall  of  King  Arthur. 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  leads  Sir  Galahad  to  the  Round 
Table,  to  the  seat  in  which  no  one  impure  in  life  or 
thought  can  sit  and  live,  and  declares  that  he  only 
will  achieve  the  adventure  of  the  Grail.  The  other 
knights,  forgetful  that  he  who  wins  must  be  sinless, 
take  a  vow  to  go  on  the  quest.  Kneeling  in  the 
cathedral  with  Sir  Galahad  in  their  midst  they 
receive  the  benediction  of  the  bishop  on  their  search. 
So  the  pictured  story  goes  on  to  the  time  when 
Sir  Galahad's  soul  is  "too  great  in  knowledge  and 
power  to  abide  crippled  in  his  earthly  body,"  and 
he  is  taken  into  heaven.  A  hand,  coming  down 
from  above,  withdraws  the  Grail  from  mankind, 
never  again  to  be  seen  on  earth. 

This  is  one  of  the  noblest  if  not  the  noblest  speci 
men  of  mural  decoration  in  America,  and  its  artist 
had  good  right  to  be  proud  of  it.  Instead  of  that 
he  looked  upon  it  only  as  a  step  to  something  bet 
ter;  and  when  a  friend  congratulated  him  on  his 
success,  he  replied  simply,  "Give  me  a  little  time, 
and  I  will  do  something  worth  while."  For  this 
work  Abbey  received  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  and 
he  spent  every  dollar  of  that  sum  in  costumes  and 
models  and  research. 

When  the  time  came  for  the  coronation  of 
Edward  VII,  in  1901,  Abbey  was  chosen  to  paint 
the  scene.  Then  his  troubles  began.  To  be  asked 
was  a  great  honor,  of  course,  but  it  was  not  a  time 
of  bliss  for  the  painter.  More  than  one  hundred 


216  EDWIN  AUSTIN  ABBEY 

distinguished  persons  must  appear  in  paint,  and 
every  one  must  have  sittings  with  him.  The  king 
and  queen  gave  him  no  trouble,  they  were  prompt 
ness  itself  and  were  not  difficult  to  please;  but  as  to 
the  peers  and  peeresses  —  Abbey  must  have  wished 
many  a  time  that  they  were  all  knights  of  the 
Round  Table  and  could  be  painted  straight  from 
the  visions  in  his  brain.  These  troublesome  people 
paid  not  the  least  regard  to  their  appointments; 
every  man  and  woman  of  them  expected  to  have  a 
full-face  portrait;  and  the  ladies  were  wrathful  if 
their  long  trains  and  jewels  were  not  brought  well 
to  the  front.  It  was  a  struggle,  but  Abbey  was 
successful,  and  the  painting  was  accepted  as  the 
official  pictorial  record  of  the  great  event,  as  "the 
most  artistic,  dignified,  and  accurate  reproduction 
of  the  ceremony  of  investiture." 

Abbey  was  always  kind-hearted,  lovable,  and 
generous.  Of  course  young  artists  often  asked  him 
to  criticize  their  work,  and  no  matter  how  dis 
couraging  it  was  he  always  contrived  to  find  some 
thing  pleasant  to  say  about  it.  He  was  engaged  to 
decorate  the  State  Capitol  at  Harrisburg  with 
scenes  from  early  Pennsylvania  history.  He  found 
that  the  space  was  too  small,  and  he  asked  for  room 
enough  to  enlarge  his  figures;  thus  planning  to 
present  to  the  State  thirty  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  his  work.  He  gave  generously  of  both  money 
and  talent  and  kindness,  and  he  received  gener 
ously  in  the  admiration  of  the  world  of  art  and  the 
love  of  all  who  knew  him. 


SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY 

INVENTOR  OF  THE  FIRST  HEAVIER-THAN-AIR 
FLYING  MACHINE 

1834-1906 

1896,  first  flight  of  a  heavier-than-air  machine 

IT  is  not  always  easy  for  a  boy  to  decide  what  he 
will  do  when  he  becomes  a  man,  and  it  was  no  easier 
for  Samuel  Langley  than  for  other  boys.  Maybe 
it  was  a  little  more  difficult  because  he  was  inter 
ested  in  everything.  His  father  made  telescopes, 
and  he  had  often  watched  through  one  of  them  the 
workmen  laying  the  stones  of  Bunker  Hill  Monu 
ment.  He  had  already  made  a  small  telescope  for 
himself,  perhaps  he  would  like  to  make  larger  ones 
and  study  the  stars.  Then,  too, .he  had  talent  for 
drawing,  not  enough  to  make  him  a  great  artist, 
but  enough  to  serve  him  well  if  he  cared  to  study 
architecture.  There  was  civil  engineering  also;  he 
thought  he  might  like  that. 

Besides  all  this  there  were  so  many  things  that  he 
wondered  about,  so  many  questions  that  he  wanted 
to  answer.  He  wondered  how  birds  managed  to 
fly,  inasmuch  as  they  were  heavier  than  air.  He 
wondered  why  white  flowers  were  sweeter  than 
scarlet  ones,  why  insects  on  trees  were  green  while 
those  on  the  ground  were  brown.  He  wondered 
why  plants  grew  faster  in  a  hotbed.  The  answers 
to  some  of  these  questions  he  thought  out  for  him 
self;  others  he  found  out  later. 


218       SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY 

By  the  time  that  he  had  graduated  from  the 
high  school  he  was  sure  that  he  wanted  to  know 
more  of  science.  He  decided  to  become  an  archi 
tect,  for  he  believed  that  he  could  do  good  work  in 
this  line  and  also  that  it  would  give  him  oppor 
tunities  for  further  scientific  study.  So  an  architect 
he  became.  He  worked  faithfully  for  seven  years, 
and  successfully.  He  made  a  good  income  which 
showed  signs  of  increasing. 

It  is  quite  probable  that  his  friends  heartily  dis 
approved  of  his  next  move,  for  he  suddenly  gave 
up  architecture  and  began  to  make  telescopes.  He 
was  only  thirty  years  of  age,  but  telescope-making 
had  improved  since  his  boyhood,  and  he  was 
delighted  to  find  that  he  could  make  much  more 
powerful  instruments  than  his  father.  He  not  only 
made  them,  but  used  them,  and  before  long  he  was 
invited  to  become  assistant  in  the  Harvard  Ob 
servatory. 

He  must  have  made  a  good  amount  of  progress, 
for  he  was  soon  offered  a  position  in  the  Naval 
Academy  at  Annapolis  as  Professor  of  Mathematics 
and  Director  of  the  Observatory.  In  1867,  when 
he  was  thirty-three  years  of  age,  he  became  Pro 
fessor  of  Astronomy  in  the  Western  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  in  Pittsburgh.  It  was  a  double 
appointment,  for  he  also  had  charge  of  the  observa 
tory  in  Allegheny  City. 

This  observatory  had  begun  well,  for  it  had  an 
excellent  telescope;  but  a  telescope  is  by  no  means 
the  only  thing  that  an  observatory  needs.  To  do 


INVENTOR  219 

any  work  with  it  there  must  be  various  instruments, 
and  there  was  not  even  a  suitable  clock.  Worse 
than  this  there  was  no  money  to  buy  one.  Then 
Professor  Langley  began  to  think.  His  seven  years 
of  business  experience  were  not  lost,  and  he  thought 
quite  as  much  like  a  business  man  as  like  a  scientist. 
He  concluded  that  he  had  a  valuable  article  to  sell. 
The  only  question  was  who  would  become  its  pur 
chaser.  That  article  was  correct  time,  delivered 
regularly  at  the  door.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
railroads  would  be  more  interested  in  this  than 
any  one  else.  In  those  days  there  was  no  "  stand 
ard  time,"  and  the  custom  of  the  railroads  was  to 
run  on  the  local  time  of  their  terminal  city  until 
the  train  came  within  the  "sphere  of  influence"  of 
the  next  large  city,  then  change  to  the  local  time  of 
that  city.  It  was  a  troublesome  and  unsafe  sys 
tem —  or  rather  lack  of  system  —  for  both  railroads 
and  travelers.  Professor  Langley  did  not  find  it 
difficult  to  persuade  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
that  to  have  standard  time,  given  by  signal  from 
his  observatory,  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for  it. 
The  railroad  provided  the  equipment,  and  at  a 
given  moment  each  day  the  time  was  flashed  from 
the  observatory  to  every  one  of  its  stations. 

A  wide-awake  scientist  always  has,  besides  the 
work  in  hand,  problems  in  his  mind  which  he  is 
longing  to  solve.  One  of  Langley's  problems  was 
how  to  measure  the  heat  and  light  of  the  sun  and 
how  to  learn  their  effect  upon  the  earth.  No  in 
strument  yet  made  was  accurate  enough  for  him, 


220       SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY 

and  he  invented  one,  which  he  called  the  bolometer. 
This  measured  heat  within  one  millionth  of  a  degree, 
and  by  it  he  proved  that  even  a  sun-spot  makes  our 
temperature  a  little  cooler.  He  proved,  too,  that 
our  devices  for  giving  light  —  that  is,  candles, 
kerosene,  gas,  etc.  —  really  use  up  much  more 
than  nine  tenths  of  their  power  in  making  not  light 
but  heat.  Nature  can  give  light  without  heat,  he 
declared,  for  she  has  made  the  firefly;  and  it  is  our 
business  to  find  out  how  she  does  it. 

Without  any  working  for  fame  Professor  Langley 
had  become  a  famous  man.  He  was  one  of  the 
foremost  authorities  on  the  sun.  He  lectured  be 
fore  learned  societies  in  this  country  and  in  Europe, 
and  received  medals  and  college  degrees  in  generous 
numbers.  He  was  happy  in  Pittsburgh,  but  he  felt 
it  a  great  loss  not  to  be  in  close  association  with 
other  scientists,  and  when  an  offer  came  from  the 
Smithsonian  Institution,  in  Washington,  he  ac 
cepted  at  once.  One  year  later,  in  1887,  ne  became 
its  Secretary. 

This  Institution  was  founded  by  the  gift  of  an 
Englishman  named  James  Smithson.  He  never 
saw  America,  and  no  one  knows  what  suggested 
leaving  his  money  to  this  country  to  found  "an 
establishment  for  the  increase  and  diffusion  of 
knowlege  among  men,"  as  he  said  in  his  will. 

Professor,  or  rather  Dr.  Langley  was  now  in  his 
element.  The  Institution  sends  out  parties  to 
explore  unknown  parts  of  the  world.  It  publishes 
accounts  of  these  explorations  and  many  valuable 


INVENTOR  221 

scientific  works.  It  offers  rewards  for  original  re 
search,  and  exchanges  reports  and  writings  with 
other  learned  societies  throughout  the  world. 

The  new  Secretary  was  intensely  interested  in 
every  branch  of  this  work;  but  he  was  too  thorough 
a  scientist  to  be  willing  to  give  up  his  own  special 
line  of  study.  He  continued  his  researches  into  the 
power  of  the  sunlight;  he  made  careful  drawings  of 
the  surface  of  the  sun;  he  studied  its  spots  and  its 
heat  and  its  influence  upon  the  earth.  An  astro- 
physical  laboratory  was  founded,  and  here  he  had 
every  advantage  for  research.  "But  what  is  the 
practical  value  of  this  work?"  thoughtless  people 
would  question  him;  and  he  would  reply,  UA11 
truth  works  for  man  if  you  give  it  time." 

Another  problem  of  this  "all  truth"  that  he  was 
eager  to  solve  was  the  old  question  of  his  boyhood, 
how  birds,  that  were  heavier  than  air,  could  fly 
through  it.  The  books  declared  that  the  more 
rapidly  anything  moved,  the  more  force  was  re 
quired.  He  was  soon  convinced  that  this  could  not 
be  true  in  flying,  for  the  fastest  birds  are  not  the 
strongest.  He  watched  the  buzzards.  They  float 
through  the  air  without  any  flapping  and  with  only 
an  occasional  slight  tilt  or  change  in  the  slant  of 
their  wings.  He  decided  that  a  body  can  be  sus 
tained  in  the  air  by  the  pressure  of  moving  air 
against  extended  surfaces;  that  is,  the  air  presses 
against  the  under  side  of  the  birds'  wings.  The 
problem  of  flying  was  chiefly,  then,  to  find  out  what 
kind  of  mechanism  to  use. 


222       SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY 

He. made  a  table  sixty  feet  in  diameter  whose  top 
was  whirled  about  rapidly  by  a  small  steam  engine. 
To  this  table  he  fastened  metal  planes,  set  at  vary 
ing  angles,  and  sometimes  a  stuffed  albatross  or  a 
frigate  bird  or  a  California  condor,  with  extended 
wings,  and  calculated  what  power  would  be  needed 
to  hold  up  a  certain  weight  when  the  plane  of  the 
bird  was  moving  swiftly  through  the  air.  He  dis 
covered  that  instead  of  rapid  horizontal  motion 
through  the  air  requiring  more  force  than  slow 
motion,  the  truth  was  that  the  more  rapid  the 
motion,  the  less  force  was  needed  for  the  same 
distance. 

For  nine  years  he  experimented.  He  made 
model  after  model,  forty  or  more  in  all.  On  May  6, 
1896,  his  " aerodrome,"  or  air-traveler,  was  sent  off 
from  a  houseboat  on  the  Potomac  River.  This  was 
only  a  model.  It  had  a  little  engine  and  gasoline 
tank,  and  weighed  about  twenty-four  pounds.  For 
one  minute  and  twenty  seconds  it  flew  upward. 
Then,  the  steam  being  exhausted,  it  settled  down 
slowly  upon  the  water.  It  had  made  a  flight  and 
had  kept  its  equilibrium  perfectly.  Alexander 
Graham  Bell,  who  was  present,  declared  that  for 
the  first  time  a  heavier-than-air  flying  machine  had 
by  its  own  power  maintained  itself  in  the  air  for 
more  than  a  few  seconds.  No  one  can  doubt  now 
that  flying  is  possible,  he  said. 

Langley  had  succeeded.  He  had  discovered  and 
revealed  the  law  that  made  flying  possible.  He 
had  proved  its  truth  by  his  model.  He  had  done 


INVENTOR  223 

the  work  of  a  scientist,  and  he  did  not  care  to  go 
any  further.  Two  years  later,  however,  he  took  a 
different  view  of  the  matter.  This  was  in  1898,  and 
it  seemed  probable  that  there  would  be  war  with 
Spain.  Flying  machines  might,  either  then  or  in 
later  wars,  be  of  great  service  to  his  country.  The 
officers  of  the  army  and  the  navy  were  interested, 
and  the  United  States  Government  made  an  ap 
propriation  of  fifty  thousand  dollars,  to  be  used  in 
developing  a  machine  that  could  carry  a  man  and 
serve  as  an  engine  of  war. 

Then  Langley  set  to  work  again.  No  gasoline 
engines  suited  to  his  purpose  were  manufactured, 
so  he  made  one  for  himself  that  was  both  light  and 
powerful.  When  the  summer  of  1903  had  come,  he 
had  two  machines  ready.  One  was  a  model;  the 
other  was  large  enough  to  carry  an  engineer.  In 
August  the  little  model  was  tested.  A  bit  of  care 
lessness  on  the  part  of  the  workmen  prevented  it 
from  doing  its  best,  but  it  flew  and  it  maintained  its 
equilibrium;  and  that  was  what  was  wanted. 

The  larger  aerodrome  was  to  be  tested  in  October 
of  the  same  year.  By  this  time  everybody  knew 
that  the  great  scientist,  Secretary  of  the  Smith 
sonian  Institution,  was  trying  to  fly.  The  crowds 
thought  that  only  a  man  whose  brain  was  a  bit 
touched  would  attempt  such  an  impossibility. 
They  laughed  and  joked  about  him,  and  when  they 
found  where  the  test  was  to  be  made,  they  swarmed 
about  the  place,  making  fun  of  the  preparations,  of 
the  machine,  and  of  its  inventor. 


224       SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY 

Some  one  has  said  that  if  Dr.  Langley  had  taken 
a  hint  .from  some  fat  hen  flying  over  a  fence,  and 
had  noticed  how  easily  she  rose  straight  from  the 
ground,  he  would  have  realized  that  his  machine 
could  be  made  to  rise  from  a  level.  Unluckily,  he 
made  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  it  must  "get  a 
start"  from  some  power  besides  that  of  its  own 
engine.  He  had  therefore  built  a  large  houseboat 
on  whose  top  were  launching  ways.  The  machine 
rested  on  a  car,  which  was  held  back  by  heavy 
springs.  At  the  releasing  of  these  springs  the  car 
was  to  run  forward  on  the  ways  bearing  the  aero 
drome.  The  ways  were  then  to  drop,  and  the 
aerodrome  was  thus  to  be  started  for  flight. 

When  the  signal  was  given  the  springs  were  re 
leased  and  the  car  ran  forward  on  the  ways.  The 
aerodrome  rose  a  little;  there  was  a  whirring  noise, 
then  a  roar;  then  straight  into  the  Potomac  River 
plunged  "  Langley 's  Folly."  A  guy  post  had  caught 
in  the  launching  car.  How  the  crowd  jeered !  They 
did  not  know  the  difference  between  a  success  and 
a  failure.  The  engineers  and  scientists  present 
knew  that  what  had  failed  was  not  the  flying 
machine,  but  merely  the  launching  ways,  a  very 
small  matter.  The  machine  itself  had  had  no  trial, 
but  the  headings  of  the  newspapers  proclaimed  that 
it  had  failed.  Two  months  later  Langley  tried  once 
more;  but  this  time  too  the  launching  apparatus  did 
not  work  properly,  and  the  rear  end  of  the  aero 
drome  was  wrecked  before  it  left  the  ways. 

These  failures  of  the  arrangements  for  launching 


INVENTOR 


225 


THE  FIRST  SUCCESSFUL  HEAVIER-THAN-AIR  FLYING  MACHINE 

A  photograph  taken  at  the  moment  of  launching  Langley's  aerodrome,  May  6, 
1896.     The  success  of  present-day  aviation  is  due  to  Langley's  pioneer  work. 

would  to-day  be  looked  upon  as  a  trifle;  but  even 
experiments  in  ways  take  money,  and  there  was  no 
money  forthcoming.  Dr.  Bell  and  Nikola  Tesla 
and  other  scientific  men  declared  that  Langley  had 
proved  by  his  earlier  models  that  if  the  launching 


226       SAMUEL  PIERPONT  LANGLEY 

arrangements  were  properly  controlled,  the  machine 
would  be  a  success;  but  Congress  had  forgotten  all 
about  the  earlier  models,  and  would  not  make  any 
further  appropriations.  People  who  thought  them 
selves  witty  wrote  silly  rhymes  and  made  stinging 
jests  about  "Langley's  Folly." 

The  inventor  was  deeply  wounded,  but  he  knew 
that  he  had  solved  the  problem  of  flight  and  he 
never  doubted  that  his  work  would  some  day  re 
ceive  the  honor  that  it  deserved.  "The  world 
must  realize,"  he  said,  "that  the  great  universal 
highway  overhead  is  soon  to  be  opened." 

Three  years  after  the  failure  of  the  ways  the  in 
ventor  died.  Aviation  had  progressed,  and  even 
then  Langley's  work  was  beginning  to  win  apprecia 
tion.  The  Wright  brothers  had  the  advantage  of  a 
motor  already  developed  which  was  light  and  easily 
controlled.  They  used  Langley's  calculations  and 
declared  frankly  that  his  work  was  the  inspiration 
of  their  early  studies. 

"Langley's  Folly"  was  raised  from  the  bed  of  the 
Potomac  and  hung  for  more  than  ten  years  in  the 
National  Museum  as  a  curiosity.  In  1914  Mr. 
Glenn  Curtiss,  with  the  permission  of  the  Govern 
ment,  carried  to  Keuka  Lake  the  old  machine  to 
which  Langley  had  devoted  so  much  of  his  best 
thought,  gave  it  fresh  canvas,  new  wires,  and  a  new 
motor;  then,  with  a  crowd  —  this  time  a  crowd  of 
admirers  —  eagerly  watching,  he  flew  smoothly  and 
safely,  while  the  crowd  cheered  wildly. 

The  Smithsonian    Institution   put  up  a  bronze 


INVENTOR  227 

tablet  in  honor  of  the  inventor  of  the  first  heavier- 
than-air  flying  machine  that  the  world  ever  saw. 
Every  one  was  ready  now  to  give  him  praise  and 
applause ;  but  a  little  sympathy  and  encouragement 
when  he  was  alive  would  have  been  better. 


ANDREW  CARNEGIE 

THE  MAN  WHO  WOULD  NOT  DIE  RICH 
1835-1919 

1899,  consolidation  of  Carnegie's  steel  interests  into  the  Carnegie 
Steel  Company 

IN  Dunfermline,  Scotland,  there  was  once  a  weaver. 
He  had  a  wife  and  two  boys,  he  had  four  damask 
looms,  he  took  apprentices,  and  he  was  looked 
upon  as  a  well-to-do  man.  In  the  middle  of  the 
nineteenth  century  weaving  was  done  on  hand 
looms  in  men's  own  houses,  but  when  the  steam 
loom  was  invented  it  became  harder  and  harder  to 
get  work,  and  one  day  the  father  returned  from  de 
livering  some  cloth  and  said  sadly,  "  I  have  no  more 
work." 

Even  "Andy,"  the  boy  of  ten  years, 'understood 
what  that  meant,  and  he  went  to  bed  a  troubled 
and  anxious  little  boy.  The  father  and  mother  had 
a  long  talk.  They  could  perhaps  get  on  in  some 
way,  but  what  of  their  two  sons?  There  seemed 
nothing  in  Scotland  for  them  to  look  forward  to; 
and  they  began  to  talk  of  America.  Some  relatives 
had  gone  to  Pittsburgh,  and  had  done  well.  They 
decided  that  for  the  sake  of  their  boys  they  would 
leave  the  place  that  they  loved  and  cross  the  ocean. 

In  Pittsburgh  the  father  found  work  as  a  cotton 
weaver.  "Andy,"  too,  found  work  as  a  bobbin- 
boy.  A  proud  boy  he  was,  for  his  $1.20  a  week  was 


WHO  WOULD  NOT  DIE  RICH        229 

a  great  help  in  supporting  the  family.  The  factory 
ran  from  sunrise  till  dark  with  forty  minutes  for 
dinner,  pretty  long  hours  for  a  child  of  his  age,  but 
he  made  no  complaint.  He  must  have  shown  that 
he  could  be  trusted,  for  he  soon  ceased  to  be  a 
bobbin-boy  and  was  made  engineer.  The  power  for 
the  factory  came  from  a  steam  engine,  and  this  small 
white-headed  boy  of  thirteen  was  put  in  charge  of 
it.  It  is  no  wonder  that  he  dreamed  of  that  engine, 
for  even  if  it  was  not  very  large,  it  was  quite  capable 
of  blowing  up  the  factory  if  the  boy  manager 
aroused  its  wrath  by  neglecting  it. 

After  he  had  spent  a  year  in  a  dark  cellar  with 
only  an  engine  for  a  companion,  there  was  a  dis 
cussion  in  the  little  Carnegie  home.  The  boy's 
uncle  had  suggested  that  he  try  to  get  a  position  as 
telegraph  messenger.  To  the  end  of  his  life  he 
remembered  putting  on  his  little  blue  jacket  and 
going  to  the  telegraph  office  with  his  father.  He 
was  engaged.  He  was  to  receive  $2.50  a  week,  and 
he  was  filled  with  pride  and  radiantly  happy.  Long 
years  afterwrards  he  wrote: 

"  Imagine  what  it  is  to  be  taken  from  a  dark  cellar, 
where  I  fired  the  boiler  from  morning  until  night, 
and  dropped  into  an  office,  where  light  shone  from  all 
sides,  with  books,  papers,  and  pencils  in  profusion 
around  me;  and  oh,  the  tick  of  those  mysterious 
instruments  on  the  desk,  annihilating  space  and 
conveying  intelligence  to  the  world.  This  was  my 
first  glimpse  of  paradise,  and  I  walked  on  air." 

To  lose  these  joys  of  being  a  messenger  boy  would 


230  ANDREW  CARNEGIE 

be  terrible,  and  he  knew  that  in  one  respect  he  was 
not  equal  to  the  position;  he  did  not  know  the 
business  parts  of  the  city.  He  knew  how  to  learn 
them,  however;  and  he  set  to  work.  Before  long 
he  could  shut  his  eyes  and  say  the  names  of  the 
firms  on  both  sides  of  the  principal  streets,  and 
picture  to  himself  the  fronts  of  the  buildings.  Then 
there  was  no  drawback  to  his  happiness. 

This  young  Andrew  had  the  habit  of  doing 
everything  as  well  as  he  could  and  of  keeping  his 
eyes  open  to  see  if  there  was  something  to  be  learned. 
There  certainly  was  in  this  office,  and  before  he 
had  been  there  a  month  he  went  straight  to  the  su 
perintendent  and  asked  if  he  would  teach  him  to 
telegraph.  The  superintendent  had  taken  a  liking 
to  the  wide-awake  boy  and  began  to  teach  him.  It 
was  not  long  before  he  could  telegraph  as  well  as  his 
instructor.  Moreover,  he  could  read  by  ear,  which 
was  not  the  custom  in  those  days. 

In  this  office  any  messenger  boy  who  chose  was 
allowed  to  practice  on  the  instruments  before  office 
hours.  One  morning  Andrew  was  hard  at  work  when 
an  important  message  was  signaled.  He  was  sure 
that  he  could  manage  it,  and  when  the  operator 
made  his  appearance  there  was  the  message  care 
fully  written  out,  waiting  for  him.  It  proved  to  be 
accurate,  and  the  result  was  that  the  messenger  boy 
became  a  telegraph  operator  with  a  salary  of  three 
hundred  dollars  a  year.  The  increase  was  needed, 
for  his  father  had  died,  and  the  young  man  must  sup 
port  the  little  home. 


WHO  WOULD  NOT  DIE  RICH         231 


Courtesy  Lackawana  Steel  Company,  Buffalo,  Few  York 

IN  A  STEEL  FOUNDRY 

A  boy  who  does  his  work  well  is  always  noticed. 
Mr.  Thomas  A.  Scott,  superintendent  of  the  Pitts 
burgh  Division  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  was 
often  in.  the  telegraph  office,  and  had  seen  the  good 
work  of  young  Carnegie.  He  offered  him  a  position 
as  operator  for  the  railroad  with  ten  dollars  a  month 
more  salary. 


232  ANDREW  CARNEGIE 

There  is  a  certain  bit  of  wisdom  with  a  whole  gold 
mine  of  value  in  it:  "Those  who  never  do  any  more 
than  they  get  paid  for,  never  get  paid  for  any  more 
than  they  do."  Young  Carnegie  always  aimed  at 
doing  more  than  he  was  paid  for.  It  was  easy  to  find 
work  here,  for  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  system  lay 
open  before  him.  He  studied  it  and  thought  about  it. 
The  time  came  for  him  to  use  his  knowledge  and  his 
thought.  One  morning  before  Mr.  Scott  had  come 
to  the  office,  a  telegram  reported  the  wreck  of  a  fast 
express.  This  express  had  the  right  of  way,  and  on 
the  sidings  all  along  the  line  were  freight  trains  wait 
ing  for  it  to  go  by  and  leave  the  track  clear.  Car 
negie  telegraphed  to  the  express  that  the  freights 
would  have  the  right  of  way  for  three  hours  and  forty 
minutes.  He  knew  where  each  freight  train  was,  and 
he  telegraphed  to  each  to  go  ahead.  When  the  super 
intendent  came  in  everything  was  moving  on.  Be 
fore  long  Mr.  Scott  had  a  new  private  secretary,  and 
his  name  was  Carnegie.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  running  trains  by  telegraph,  and  the  system  was 
promptly  adopted  by  all  the  single-track  roads. 

Before  long  Mr.  Scott  was  moved  up  higher  in  the 
railroad  service,  and  Carnegie  took  his  place.  The 
railroad  management  was  thinking  about  bridges. 
Wooden  ones  sometimes  broke  down  and  some 
times  caught  fire,  and  an  iron  bridge  was  being  tried. 
This  succeeded,  and  Carnegie  was  convinced  that  a 
firm  to  manufacture  the  parts  for  iron  bridges  would 
be  a  success.  With  Mr.  Scott's  help  and  his  own  bus 
iness  ability  he  had  invested  his  savings  most  ad- 


WHO  WOULD  NOT  DIE  RICH        233 

vantageously,  and  he  was  ready  to  put  what  money 
he  had  into  this  new  venture.  Others  joined  with 
him.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  great  United 
States  Steel  Company,  which  now  owns  not  only  an 
immense  manufacturing  plant,  but  coal  lands,  iron 
lands,  gas  lands,  a  fleet  of  lake  steamers,  a  private 
telegraph  system,  and  a  private  railroad. 

Mr.  Carnegie  never  forgot  his  own  boyhood,  and 
he  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  young  men  to  ad 
vance.  He  watched  them  closely,  and  gave  them 
more  and  more  responsibility.  If  they  proved  equal 
to  it  they  were  promoted  and  became  partners.  If 
they  did  not  stand  the  test  there  was  no  hope  for 
them  in  that  establishment,  not  even  for  his  own 
nephew.  In  the  old  stories  of  Robin  Hood,  Robin 
would  have  no  man  as  a  follower  who  could  not  beat 
him  in  a  fair  fight;  and  much  after  the  fashion  of 
Robin  was  Mr.  Carnegie's  attitude  toward  his  young 
men.  He  had  a  genuine  admiration  for  those  who 
had  proved  worthy,  and  he  said  of  them : 

"  I  do  not  believe  any  one  man  can  make  a  success 
of  a  business  nowadays.  I  am  sure  I  never  could 
have  done  so  without  my  partners,  of  whom  I  had 
thirty-two,  the  brightest  and  cleverest  young  fellows 
in  the  world.  All  were  equal  to  each  other,  as  the 
members  of  the  Cabinet  are  equal.  The  chief  must 
only  be  first  among  equals.  I  know  that  every  one 
of  my  partners  would  have  smiled  at  the  idea  of  my 
being  his  superior,  although  the  principal  stock 
holder.  The  way  they  differed  from  me  and  beat  me 
many  a  time  was  delightful  to  behold.  I  never  en- 


234  ANDREW  CARNEGIE 

joyed  anything  more  than  to  get  a  sound  thrashing 
in  an  argument  at  the  hands  of  these  young  geniuses. 
No  man  will  make  a  great  business  who  wants  to  do 
it  all  himself  or  to  get  all  the  credit  for  doing  it." 

When  Mr.  Carnegie  was  sixty-four  he  retired  from 
business  with  an  enormous  fortune.  He  had  often 
said  that  it  was  the  duty  of  a  rich  man  to  live  simply, 
to  provide  first  for  those  who  were  dependent  upon 
him,  and  to  look  upon  the  rest  of  his  property  as  a 
trust,  not  to  be  held  fast  till  the  last  minute  of  his 
life  and  then  willed  away  merely  because  he  could 
not  hold  it  any  longer,  but  given  away  while  he  lived. 
That  sounded  well,  but  would  he  live  up  to  his 
theories,  and  could  he?  For  his  interest  in  the  steel 
works  he  had  received  $250,000,000,  and  that  is  a 
big  sum.  His  income  from  this  was  $34,000  a  day. 
What  should  you  do  if  a  check  for  $34,000  was 
handed  to  you  every  morning  with  strict  orders  not 
to  have  a  penny  left  at  night? 

What  to  do  with  part  of  it  he  had  decided  when 
he  was  a  boy  in  Pittsburgh,  receiving  $2.50  a  week. 
A  kind-hearted  gentleman  in  that  city  invited  him 
and  some  other  boys  to  come  to  his  house  every 
Saturday  afternoon  and  select  a  book  from  his  li 
brary  to  read  through  the  week.  "If  I  am  ever  a 
rich  man  I  will  found  free  libraries  so  that  poor  boys 
can  have  good  books  to  read,"  he  had  said  to  him 
self  at  the  time,  and  he  had  never  changed  his  mind. 
He  now  set  to  work  to  give  libraries. 

He  was  as  wise  in  his  giving  of  money  as  he  had 
been  in  making  it.  If  a  town  asked  for  one  of  these 


WHO  WOULD  NOT  DIE  RICH        235 

libraries,  it  must  prove  that  it  really  wanted  it  by 
agreeing  to  devote  a  certain  amount  of  money  each 
year  to  its  support.  He  spent  at  least  $70,000,000 
on  these  gifts,  but  he  made  no  stipulations  except 
what  were  necessary  to  secure  the  continuance  of 
the  libraries  and  the  best  use  of  the  money.  People 
speak  of  " Carnegie  Libraries,"  but  Mr.  Carnegie 
himself  never  suggested  or  even  hinted  that  they 
should  be  named  for  him. 

About  $30,000,000  he  set  apart  for  pensions  or  in 
surance  for  college  professors.  He  established  a 
benefit  fund  for  the  employees  of  the  Carnegie  Steel 
Company.  He  founded  a  Hero  Fund  in  this  country 
and  in  many  of  the  countries  of  Europe  to  reward 
persons  Who  had  risked  their  lives  to  save  others.  Of 
war  he  had  a  profound  horror,  and  he  gave  $10,000,- 
ooo  as  a  fund  the  income  from  which  is  to  be  spent 
in  any  way  that  the  directors  think  wise  in  order  to 
bring  about  good-will  among  nations.  He  added 
to  this  gift  $1,500,000  to  build  a  "Peace  Palace"  at 
The  Hague.  To  Scotch  universities  and  to  his  na 
tive  Dunfermline  he  gave  liberally. 

He  felt  that  Pittsburgh  had  a  special  claim  upon 
his  interest,  because  it  was  there  that  he  had  made 
his  fortune,  and  he  wished  to  aid  the  city  by  trans 
muting  this  money  into  things  that  would  give  spirit 
ual  and  intellectual  gain.  To  Pittsburgh  he  gave  the 
Carnegie  Institute,  consisting  of  library,  concert  hall, 
picture  gallery,  and  museum.  Later  he  added  the 
Technical  School,  that  the  boys  of  Pittsburgh  might 
receive  their  education  in  their  home  city. 


236  ANDREW  CARNEGIE 

The  Carnegie  Institution  in  Washington,  which 
Mr.  Carnegie  gave  and  endowed  with  a  gift  of  $22,- 
000,000,  has  for  its  object  investigation  in  all  depart 
ments  of  science,  literature,  and  art,  for  the  improve 
ment  of  mankind.  The  work  of  this  Institution  is 
much  varied.  One  department  is  perhaps  making 
original  researches  in  astronomy,  another  in  zoology, 
another  is  sending  a  ship  of  bronze  over  the  seas. 
Corrections  of  the  charts  of  the  magnetic  currents 
are  made  on  these  trips,  corrections  which  will  save 
many  a  brave  vessel  from  being  dashed  on  the  rocks 
and  wrecked. 

In  1911,  eight  years  before  his  death,  Mr.  Carne 
gie  founded  the  Carnegie  Corporation  of  New  York, 
and  put  into  the  hands  of  the  Corporation  $125,- 
000,000.  In  doing  this  he  was  planning  that  long 
after  his  own  death  his  fortune  should  continue  to 
serve  the  world.  The  trustees  are  left  free  to  assist, 
if  necessary,  the  institutes,  Hero  Fund,  etc.,  which 
he  had  already  founded,  and  also  to  promote  the 
advancement  and  diffusion  of  knowledge  in  what 
ever  ways  may  be  found  desirable.  In  his  will  he 
left  to  this  Corporation  all  property  not  otherwise 
disposed  of. 

Andrew  Carnegie  gave  away  at  least  nineteen 
twentieths  of  his  fortune,  a  larger  sum  than  any  one 
else  in  the  world  has  ever  given.  Best  of  all,  he  gave 
himself,  his  thought  and  his  careful  planning  for 
what  would  be  of  most  value  to  the  peace  and  prog 
ress  of  the  whole  world. 


WILLIAM  CRAWFORD  GORGAS 

WHO  MADE  THE  CANAL  ZONE  SAFE 
1854-1920 

1904,  appointed  Chief  Sanitation  Officer  of  the  Panama  Canal 

IN  some  of  our  Southern  States  yellow  fever  used  to 
break  out  every  few  years.  Towns  had  to  be  qua 
rantined,  all  business  with  them  was  completely 
stopped,  and  many  persons  died.  This  fever  came 
from  Cuba,  and  was  caused,  many  people  thought, 
by  the  filth  of  her  cities.  As  long  as  Spain  held  the 
island  nothing  could  be  done;  but  when,  at  the  close 
of  the  Spanish-American  War  in  1898,  Cuba  came 
under  the  care  of  the  United  States,  our  army  set  to 
work  to  clean  house. 

This  business  was  put  into  the  hands  of  Surgeon- 
Major  Gorgas.  He  was  born  in  Alabama,  son  of  a 
West  Point  graduate,  and  had  seen  active  service 
in  Florida,  Dakota,  in  what  used  to  be  Indian  Terri 
tory,  and  on  the  Mexican  Border  of  Texas.  He  was 
a  gentle,  courteous  man  of  "old  school  manners,"  a 
man  who  never  went  away  from  a  place  without 
leaving  many  friends  behind  him.  He  now  began  to 
clean  up  Havana;  and  it  -was  cleaned.  It  fairly  shone 
with  cleanliness.  Apparently  the  enemy  had  been 
conquered.  But  the  next  thing  was  an  epidemic  of 
fever  in  the  spotless  city,  and  the  most  discouraging 
fact  was  that  the  very  worst  of  the  epidemic  was  in 
that  part  of  the  city  which  had  been  put  into  the 
best  condition!  What  was  to  be  done? 


238       WILLIAM  CRAWFORD  GORGAS 

As  early  as  1881  Dr.  Carlos  Finlay,  of  Havana, 
suspected  that  mosquitoes  had  something  to  do  with 
the  spread  of  yellow  fever,  and  the  medical  board  of 
the  army  thought  it  was  quite  worth  while  to  try 
some  careful  experiments  and  find  out  whether  this 
was  true.  They  found  that  it  was;  that  fever  was  not 
given  directly  by  one  person  to  another,  but  through 
the  bite  of  a  mosquito  that  had  previously  bitten  a  suf 
ferer.  The  thing  to  do,  then,  was  to  get  rid  of  these 
mosquitoes,  and  Dr.  Gorgas  went  to  work.  The  re 
sult  was  that  after  a  few  months  there  was  only  one 
case  of  fever  in  Havana. 

When  a  man  has  made  a  success  of  one  piece  of 
work  he  is  usually  honored  by  having  a  harder  piece 
put  into  his  hands,  and  Dr.  Gorgas,  promoted  to  be 
Colonel  and  Assistant  Surgeon-General  Gorgas,  was 
now  sent  to  Panama. 

Panama  was  hot  and  wet.  The  Chagres  River 
was,  as  some  one  said  of  the  Concord  River,  "too 
lazy  to  keep  itself  clean,"  and  moved  so  slowly  that 
one  could  hardly  tell  which  way  it  was  flowing. 
There  were  swamps  and  morasses,  steaming  up 
hotly;  there  were  quagmires  and  stagnant  pools 
everywhere.  In  the  towns  of  Colon  and  Panama 
matters  were  quite  as  bad  as  in  the  country.  There 
was  no  "city  water,"  and  it  was  the  custom  to  keep 
an  uncovered  rain-barrel  just  outside  the  door.  In 
front  of  the  door  was  usually  an  open  and  very  bad- 
smelling  ditch  to  carry  off  the  foul  water. 

The  Isthmus  was  a  perfect  paradise  of  mosquitoes, 
both  those  that  spread  yellow  fever  and  those  that 


WHO  MADE  THE  CANAL  ZONE  SAFE    239 

spread  malaria.  They  had  things  all  their  own  way 
out  of  doors,  and  as  nobody  used  screens  they  flew 
into  the  houses  as  they  liked.  Of  course  all  sorts  of 
fever  flourished,  and  occasionally  there  was  an  epi 
demic  of  yellow  fever.  The  only  marvel  is  that  any 
one  could  live  there.  Indeed,  very  few  persons  did 
live  there  in  any  condition  of  health.  Even  if  they 
escaped  yellow  fever  they  suffered  from  malaria. 
Both  kinds  of  mosquitoes  were  ready  to  have  a  fine 
time  infecting  newcomers. 

This  was  the  place  into  which  it  was  proposed  to 
turn  thousands  of  men,  not  only  men  from  hot  coun 
tries  and  negroes,  who  rarely  take  yellow  fever,  but 
men  and  their  families  from  cool,  clean  homes  in  the 
North,  just  the  people  to  be  struck  down  by  the 
disease. 

They  came.  Malaria  spread  and  yellow  fever 
increased.  People  began  to  laugh  at  the  mosquito 
theory,  scoffed  at  the  sanitary  commission,  and 
asked  that  Gorgas  be  sent  away  and  some  one  else 
appointed  in  his  place.  There  was  a  general  fright 
and  a  rush  for  the  returning  steamers.  The  whole 
trouble  was  that  Colonel  Gorgas  could  not  get  the 
supplies  that  he  needed,  and  that  it  had  not  been 
fully  decided  what  our  legal  rights  were  in  the  cities 
of  Colon  and  Panama.  Before  long  the  supplies 
came,  the  legal  tangle  was  straightened  out,  and  san 
itation  began  in  earnest. 

It  was  a  big  job.  Here  were  many  thousand  men 
brought  to  work  on  the  great  canal.  Well  men  were 
needed,  not  sick  men.  Sick  men  were  useless  and 


24o       WILLIAM  CRAWFORD  GORGAS 

expensive.  When  a  man  is  sick  not  only  must  he 
be  cared  for,  but  a  well  man  must  take  his  place. 
Then,  too,  many  men  brought  their  families.  It 
was  Colonel  Gorgas's  business  to  see  that,  as  far  as 
possible,  neither  the  men  nor  their  families  became 
ill.  He  must  look  out  for  the  general  health  as  well 
as  for  special  diseases. 

Good  water  was  especially  necessary,  and  he 
brought  it  in  through  great  mains.  This  was  not 
the  work  of  a  day,  and  while  the  system  was  being 
installed  he  established  stations  where  pure  drink 
ing-water  was  supplied.  The  streets  of  the  towns 
were  paved  and  cleaned.  The  open  ditches  for  foul 
water  were  filled  up  and  sewage  systems  wrere  in 
stalled.  Before  this  the  only  collectors  of  garbage 
had  been  the  vultures  that  swooped  down  for  any 
thing  that  they  found  eatable;  but  Dr.  Gorgas  in 
sisted  upon  the  use  of  covered  garbage-cans,  quite  a 
new  idea  in  Panama.  Houses  were  examined,  one 
by  one,  and  the  inmates  were  taught  how  to  keep 
them  sanitarily  clean.  Doors  and  windows  were 
screened.  Swinging  shelves  were  put  up,  hung  by 
oiled  twine,  so  that  food  might  be  kept  from  ants  and 
roaches.  Bubonic  plague  is  brought  in  by  rats,  ci 
rather  by  the  fleas  that  live  on  rats,  and  therefore, 
when  it  appeared  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  Colonel  Gor 
gas  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  thriving  business, 
paying  ten  cents  for  every  rat  tail  brought  him. 

To  prevent  yellow  fever  just  one  thing  was  neces 
sary,  and  that  was  to  do  away  with  the  fever  mos 
quito.  It  breeds  in  stagnant  water,  and  therefore 


Courtesy  Isthmian  Canal  Cbmmiwum 

BEFORE  AND  AFTER  THE  ADVENT  OF  THE  AMERICANS 

Of  these  photographs,  the  upper  one  illustrates  the  neglected  condition  of  the 
streets  of  Colon  when  the  Americans  began  to  dig  the  canal.  As  a  first  step  in  san 
itation  all  the  streets  were  cleaned  up  and  paved.  The  lower  photograph  shows  the 
same  locality  with  a  macadam  street  in  process  of  construction. 


242       WILLIAM  CRAWFORD  GORGAS 

uncovered  rain-barrels  were  no  longer  allowed  to 
stand  beside  the  doors.  Swamps  and  pools  were 
drained,  and  any  morass  that  could  not  be  drained 
was  covered  with  a  film  of  oil.  Mosquito  wrigglers 
come  to  the  surface  for  air  every  few  minutes,  and 
if  the  surface  is  covered  with  oil  they  cannot  push 
their  breathing  tubes  through,  and  so  they  drown 
by  the  thousand. 

Malaria  is  spread  by  the  bite  of  another  species  of 
mosquito.  This  species  never  makes  long  flights,  so 
General  Gorgas  had  the  brush  cut  away  for  one  hun 
dred  yards  around  the  houses.  With  no  brush  to 
shelter  the  insect  the  people  were  safe  in  their  homes. 
Windows  and  doors  were,  of  course,  protected 
against  both  kinds  of  mosquitoes  by  well-made 
screens. 

How  was  this  done  so  thoroughly?  In  the  first 
place,  Colonel  Gorgas  was  an  excellent  organizer, 
and  he  promptly  divided  the  Canal  Zone  of  about 
five  hundred  square  miles  into  seventeen  districts. 
Each  district  had  an  inspector,  one  assistant  who 
knew  mosquitoes  as  well  as  his  a,  b,  c;  another  who 
understood  all  about  making  drains  and  ditches  and 
oiling  swamps;  and  a  third  who  was  able  to  take 
general  charge  of  the  workmen  needed.  The  sani 
tary  inspector  reported  at  headquarters  every  day 
the  number  of  malaria  cases  in  his  district.  If  in 
any  one  week  this  increased  above  one  and  one  half 
per  cent,  there  was  a  prompt  investigation. 

Second,  a  number  of  camps  were  established, 
where  men  needing  an  immediate  operation  or  suf- 


WHO  MADE  THE  CANAL  ZONE  SAFE    243 

fering  from  an  accident  could  be  cared  for  without 
even  the  small  delay  of  carrying  them  to  the  large 
hospitals  at  Colon  or  Panama.  Every  case  of  yel 
low  fever  was  taken  at  once  to  the  hospital,  and 
there  was  so  carefully  screened  that  not  one  mos 
quito  could  get  near  him  to  spread  the  disease. 

On  paper  all  this  seems  smooth  sailing,  but  in 
reality  it  was  not  an  easy  matter.  Gorgas's  chief 
difficulty  was  with  the  people  who  did  not  believe  in 
mosquito  infection  because  they  could  not  see  it.  A 
large  number  of  the  workmen  were  ignorant  Ne 
groes  from  the  West  Indies.  They  themselves  were 
immune  from  fever,  and  it  was  hard  to  persuade 
them  that  piles  of  dirt,  stagnant  water,  and  windows 
without  screens  would  make  trouble  for  other  peo 
ple.  Colonel  Gorgas  found  that  the  only  way  to 
manage  them  was  to  treat  them  like  children.  Just 
when  the  workman  was  not  expecting  a  visit  a  Gov 
ernment  inspector  would  appear  at  his  door  to  in 
spect  his  house.  If  the  rules  had  not  been  obeyed 
there  was  a  fine  to  pay;  and  great  pains  were  taken 
to  make  sure  that  the  workman  understood  just 
what  he  had  done  that  was  wrong.  If  he  was  ill  he 
was  carried  to  a  hospital ;  and  before  he  was  set  free 
he  was  told  simply  and'  clearly  what  had  caused  his 
illness,  and  how  he  could  take  better  care  of  himself. 
Before  long  one  thing  was  perfectly  clear  in  his 
mind,  namely,  that  the  only  way  to  escape  fines  and 
penalties  and  hospital  life  was  to  obey  rules  and 
keep  clean.  In  short,  he  now  wanted  to  keep 
clean,  because  he  had  found  out  that  if  he  did  not 


244       WILLIAM  CRAWFORD  GORGAS 

life  was  not  comfortable,  and  he  did  like  to  be  com 
fortable. 

The  second  of  Colonel  Gorgas's  troubles  was  the 
difficulty  in  getting  Congress  to  understand  that  he 
was  doing  a  big  work  and  needed  "big  money"  to 
carry  it  on.  He  had  not  torn  down  mountains  or 
built  locks.  He  had,  to  be  sure,  made  the  building 
of  the  canal  possible  by  keeping  many  thousand 
people  alive  and  well;  but  he  could  hardly  march 
them  before  Congress  and  demand  larger  appropria 
tions.  He  did  his  best  to  persuade  Congress  to  give, 
then  did  his  best  with  what  Congress  had  given ;  and 
after  a  while  his  work  found  the  appreciation  that  all 
good  work  does  find  sooner  or  later. 

It  was  owing  to  Colonel  Gorgas  that  the  Canal 
Zone  became  a  more  healthful  place  to  live  in  than 
the  City  of  New  York.  While  the  French  were  at 
work  on  the  Isthmus  little  was  known  of  sanitation. 
They  had  an  average  force  of  10,000  men;  and  lost 
in  all  22,000.  The  Americans  had  an  average  force 
of  33,000,  and  lost  4000.  It  was  proved  by  Colonel, 
or  rather  Brigadier-General  Gorgas  that  the  tropics 
could  be  made  a  safe  place  for  even  white  men  from 
the  North,  and  throngs  of  the  best  workmen  in  the 
world,  men  who  were  as  eager  to  give  good  work  as 
to  get  good  wages,  came  to  Panama.  Gorgas  had 
attempted  "the  greatest  task  of  sanitation  that  has 
ever  been  undertaken,"  and  he  had  succeeded. 
Without  his  work  the  building  of  the  Panama  Canal 
would  have  been  impossible. 


ROBERT  E.  PEARY 

DISCOVERER  OF  THE  NORTH  POLE 

1856-1920 

1909,  reached  the  North  Pole 

WHEN  Robert  E.  Peary  was  three  years  old  his  wid 
owed  mother  brought  her  boy  back  from  Pennsyl 
vania  to  her  old  home  in  Portland,  Maine.  Port 
land  was  a  good  place  for  a  boy  to  grow  up  in.  There 
were  woods  and  fields  and  hills  for  Saturday  rambles, 
there  were  bulwarks  and  forts,  and  best  of  all,  there 
was  beautiful  Casco  Bay,  full  of  islands,  the  most 
fascinating  spots  in  the  world  for  a  boy  with  a  dory. 
Stretching  far  beyond  the  bay,  far  beyond  the  hori 
zon  line,  was  the  real  ocean,  and  the  boy  knew  that 
if  the  dory  had  a  sail  and  only  went  far  enough  to 
the  eastward,  it  would  carry  him  straight  to  Spain. 
Ships  from  Spain  and  France  and  even  more  dis 
tant  countries  often  lay  at  the  wharves.  Long 
fellow,  too,  was  a  Portland  boy,  and  he  wrote  of  his 
beloved  town: 

"I  remember  the  black  wharves  and  the  slips, 

And  the  sea-tides  tossing  free; 
And  Spanish  sailors  with  bearded  lips, 
And  the  beauty  and  mystery  of  the  ships, 
And  the  magic  of  the  sea. 

And  the  voice  of  that  wayward  song 
Is  singing  and  saying  still: 
'  A  boy's  will  is  the  wind's  will, 
And  the  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long  thoughts.'" 


246  ROBERT  E.  PEARY 

Whatever  this  boy's  thoughts  turned  to,  the  chief 
thing  that  people  seem  to  have  remembered  about 
him  is  that  he  was  unusually  thorough  in  anything 
that  he  undertook.  He  graduated  at  Bowdoin  Col 
lege  second  in  a  class  of  fifty-one  and  became  a  sur 
veyor.  Apparently  he  felt  some  attraction  toward 
the  navy,  for  he  took  a  naval  examination  for  ad 
mission  as  a  civil  engineer.  Now  he  became  a  lieu 
tenant,  and  before  long  he  helped  make  the  survey 
for  the  proposed  canal  across  Nicaragua. 

His  connection  with  the  navy  led  him  to  Wash 
ington,  and  while  browsing  one  day  in  an  old  book 
store  in  that  city  he  came  upon  a  paper  on  the  ice 
cap  covering  the  interior  of  Greenland.  It  was  in 
teresting  and  led  him  to  read  more  and  more  about 
the  unknown  country.  He  wanted  to  see  Green 
land,  wanted  it  so  much  that  in  1886  he  applied  for 
leave  of  absence  and  paid  his  first  visit  to  the  frozen 
North.  He  had  only  a  short  leave  and  a  shallow 
purse,  for  he  spent  only  his  own  savings;  but  he  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  into  Greenland  farther  than  any 
other  explorer  had  done.  The  charm  of  the  "  great 
white  North"  was  upon  him,  and  he  wanted  to  go 
again.  The  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Natural 
Sciences  thought  he  was  well  worth  sending,  and 
supplied  part  of  the  money. 

Five  years  after  his  first  trip  he  made  a  second, 
but  not  alone.  Between  the  two  trips  he  had  mar 
ried,  and  his  wife  had  said:  "I  am  young  and  well 
and  strong,  and  I  can  live  in  Greenland  as  well  as 
any  Danish  woman.  Why  should  I  not  go  with 


DISCOVERER  OF  THE  NORTH  POLE    247 

you? "  She  went,  and  proved  herself  a  most  helpful 
companion.  On  this  trip  Peary  began  to  make  his 
mark  on  the  map  of  the  world,  for  he  gave  a  northern 
coast-line  to  Greenland  and  proved  that  it  was  an 
island.  He  went  as  far  north  as  81°  37'. 

Almost  as  soon  as  he  and  Mrs.  Peary  reached 
home  they  began  to  prepare  for  another  trip.  Part 
of  the  preparations  consisted  in  Peary's  giving  168 
lectures  to  help  raise  funds.  Mrs.  Peary  was  ready 
to  go  again,  this  time  to  remain  more  than  two 
years.  The  expedition  came  back  enriched  by  a 
baby  girl,  for  in  the  ice  and  snow  of  the  North  the 
little  daughter  of  Lieutenant  and  Mrs.  Peary  was 
born. 

The  natives  told  Peary  that  once  upon  a  time, 
many  years  ago,  evil  spirits  had  hurled  down  upon 
their  country  great  masses  of  ironstone.  Of  course 
he  guessed  that  these  were  meteorites,  and  he  went 
to  Cape  York  to  see  them.  There  were  three,  "the 
Tent,"  "the  Woman,"  and  " the  Dog,"  as  the  Eski 
mos  called  them.  The  two  smaller  ones  he  brought 
home  with  him,  and  on  a  later  voyage,  he  brought 
also  "the  Tent,"  which  is  thought  to  be  the  largest 
aerolite  in  the  world.  It  is  in  the  Museum  of  Natu 
ral  History  in  New  York. 

But  Peary's  thoughts  were  on  the  Pole.  One  ex 
pedition  after  another  had  been  made  by  gallant 
explorers,  but  all  had  failed  to  reach  the  Pole.  Was 
there  any  hope  that  he  could  succeed?  He  knew 
just  what  the  difficulties  were,  and  he  believed  that 
he  knew  how  to  get  the  better  of  them.  Instead  of 


248  ROBERT  E.  PEARY 

trying  to  strike  out  in  a  "white  man's  way,"  he  de 
termined  to  follow  the  example  of  the  Eskimos,  to 
wear  the  same  kind  of  clothing,  to  live  in  snow 
houses,  and  above  all  to  "live  on  the  country,"  for 
on  much  of  the  way  north  animals  of  various  kinds 
can  be  found. 

Again  and  again  he  tried.  On  his  first  polar  ex 
pedition  he  remained  in  the  North  four  years,  trying 
every  summer  to  get  to  the  Pole,  and  every  summer 
finding  the  way  blocked  by  enormous  ice  packs,  by 
dense  fogs,  and  by  terrible  storms.  He  wrote  in  his 
journal:  "My  dream  of  sixteen  years  is  ended.  I 
cannot  accomplish  the  impossible."  But  he  could 
no  more  stop  seeking  for  the  Pole  than  he  could  stop 
breathing,  and  as  soon  as  he  reached  home  he  began 
to  make  ready  to  "accomplish  the  impossible." 

A  vessel  named  the  Roosevelt  was  provided,  much 
stronger  than  any  that  he  had  used  before.  Every 
thing  went  well  to  the  very  shores  of  the  polar  sea, 
and  he  marched  farther  north  than  any  explorer  had 
ever  gone  before.  It  is  no  wonder  that  he  lay  awake 
nights,  wishing  that  the  dogs  had  had  their  rest  so 
they  could  start.  Then  came  furious  winds  which 
broke  up  the  ice  fields.  Peary  and  the  parties  that 
he  had  left  on  the  way  were  separated,  and  they  had 
the  food  for  his  return.  To  go  on  would  mean  dying 
of  starvation,  and  he  turned  back  —  with  the  Pole 
less  than  three  degrees  away. 

But  could  he  go  back?  The  savage  winds  were 
still  raging.  Almost  under  the  feet  of  the  explorers 
a  "lead,"  or  long  opening  in  the  ice,  was  formed.  It 


DISCOVERER  OF  THE  NORTH  POLE     249 

grew  wider,  until  two  miles  of  black  water  lay  be 
tween  them  and  their  return.  Day  after  day  they 
waited;  but  when  they  had  almost  given  up  hope 
the  black  water  showed 
a  thin  coating  of  ice. 
Even  with  their  snow- 
shoes  on,  it  bent  under 
their  feet.  They  gained 
the  other  side,  but  not 
a  moment  too  soon,  for 
the  changing  wind  tore 
open  a  crack  just  be 
hind  them. 

Other  explorers  had 
been  proud  of  reaching 
''farthest  North,"  but 
with  this  explorer  it  was 
the  Pole  or  nothing; 
and  he  was  no  sooner 
at  home  than  he  be 
gan  to  make  ready  for 
his  eighth  expedition. 
Arctic  travel  demands 
men  who  are  strong  and  young.  Peary  was  now 
fifty-two.  This  was  his  last  chance. 

Many  of  the  men  had  been  with  him  on  some  or 
all  of  the  other  expeditions.  Everything  was  pro 
vided  for  safety  and  comfort  that  twenty-two  years' 
experience  of  the  North  could  suggest.  Cranks 
without  number  urged  him  to  try  their  amazing 
schemes.  One  thought  a  lengthy  hose  through 


Photograph  by  Broivn  Brothers 

EXPLORER  PEARY  ON  THE  BRIDGE 
OF  THE  STEAMSHIP  "  ROOSEVELT  " 


250  ROBERT  E.  PEARY 

which  soup  could  be  sent  to  advance  parties  would 
be  a  valuable  article.  Another  was  more  ambitious 
and  recommended  a  machine  of  his  own  invention 
for  shooting  Peary  himself  straight  to  the  Pole. 

When  the  Roosevelt  left  New  York,  in  1908,  the 
thousands  of  people  on  the  piers  cheered,  the  tugs 
and  ferryboats  tooted,  the  factories  blew  their  whis 
tles,  President  Roosevelt's  Mayflower  saluted  with 
her  one  little  gun,  and  the  boat  was  off. 

On  they  went,  taking  on  coal  at  one  place  and 
Eskimos  at  another.  The  Roosevelt  was  caught  in 
the  ice  and  "kicked  about  by  the  floes  as  if  she  had 
been  a  football,"  but  at  last  she  was  at  Cape  Sheri 
dan,  and  in  the  " great  dark"  for  the  five  months  of 
winter.  With  the  first  light  of  spring  they  started 
for  the  Pole.  It  was  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
away.  No  party  could  drag  enough  food  and  liquid 
fuel  to  last  them  there  and  back ;  and  Peary  had  di 
vided  his  force  into  a  main  party,  and  supporting 
parties  who  were  to  break  the  trail  for  the  first  three 
hundred  miles  in  order  to  save  the  strength  of  the 
main  party  for  the  last  dash.  As  fast  as  the  food 
brought  by  a  supporting  party  was  used  up,  that 
party  returned.  This  was  perfectly  planned,  but 
they  all  knew  that  a  twenty-four-hour  gale  or  an 
open  lead  that  refused  to  close  would  spoil  every 
thing  and  send  them  back  in  bitter  disappointment. 

The  storm  did  not  appear,  but  the  leads  did. 
These  were  crossed  as  best  they  could  be.  Peary 
said  of  one  that  it  was  like  trying  to  cross  a  river 
on  gigantic  shingles,  two  or  three  deep.  Another 


DISCOVERER  OF  THE  NORTH  POLE    251 

opened  among  their  snow  huts,  separating  them 
from  one  another.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait  for  the  ice  to  close  —  if  it  would.  The  wind 
changed,  and  they  rushed  across  at  full  speed. 

At  length  all  the  supporting  parties  had  returned. 
Peary,  his  four  Eskimos,  and  a  Negro  who  had  been 
with  him  on  nearly  all  his  expeditions  set  out  on  the 
last  dash  to  the  Pole.  When  they  reached  it,  April 


Photograph  by  Brown  Brot/i, 

THE  STEAMSHIP  "ROOSEVELT"  FROZEN  INTO  THE  ICE 

Waiting  for  Peary's  return  from  the  North  Pole. 

6,  1909,  he  was  too  tired  to  realize  anything  except 
that  he  could  not  keep  awake.  Hour  after  hour  he 
slept,  and  when  he  woke,  he  wrote  in  his  journal: 
"The  Pole  at  last!  The  prize  of  three  centuries. 
My  dream  and  goal  for  twenty  years.  Mine  at 
last!  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  realize  it.  It  all 
seems  so  simple  and  commonplace." 

And  yet  he  stood  where  no  man  had  ever  stood 


252  ROBERT  E.  PEARY 

before.  North,  east,  and  west  had  vanished,  and 
there  was  only  south.  Time,  too,  had  disappeared, 
for  time  is  marked  by  the  sun's  crossing  the  meridi 
ans  of  longitude,  and  here  all  meridians  were  one. 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  was  hoisted  on  ice  lances  in 
the  brilliant  sunlight.  The  World  Flag  of  Liberty 
and  Peace,  the  Navy  League  Flag,  the  Red  Cross 
Flag,  and  the  flag  of  Peary's  college  fraternity,  the 
Delta  Kappa  Epsilon,  were  flung  to  the  Arctic 
breeze.  Observations  were  taken,  and  after  thirty 
hours  at  the  Pole  the  explorers  gave  one  last  look  and 
set  about  the  return. 

At  the  next  full  moon  the  ice  would  be  full  of  leads, 
and,  as  Peary  told  his  men,  the  journey  must  be 
"big  travel,  small  sleep,  and  hustle  every  minute." 
So  it  was,  but  all  went  well,  so  well  that  one  of  the 
Eskimos  said  in  his  own  language,  "The  Devil  is 
asleep  or  having  trouble  with  his  wrife,  or  we  should 
never  have  come  back  so  easily." 

In  the  early  days  of  autumn,  1909,  the  Roosevelt 
reached  the  wireless  station  at  Indian  Harbor,  in 
Labrador,  and  soon  Mrs.  Peary  was  reading  a  mes 
sage:  "Have  made  good  at  last.  I  have  the  Pole. 
Am  well.  Love."  To  the  Associated  Press  went 
the  words,  "Stars  and  Stripes  nailed  to  the  North 
Pole." 

As  the  sturdy  little  vessel  drew  near  to  Cape 
Breton  Island  a  dainty  white  yacht  steamed  out  to 
meet  it.  On  board  were  Mrs.  Peary  and  the  two 
children.  The  whole  bay  was  full  of  boats  in  their 
gayest  bunting,  and  from  them  came  cheer  after 


DISCOVERER  OF  THE  NORTH  POLE    253 

cheer  for  the  man  who  had  succeeded.  The  Roose 
velt  steamed  away  to  New  York,  but  Peary  and  his 
family  went  to  their  summer  home  on  Eagle  Island, 
in  the  waters  of  beautiful  Casco  Bay. 

Congress  made  Peary  a  rear  admiral  and  passed  a 
formal  act  of  thanks  for  his  achievements.  France 
gave  him  her  highest  honors,  and  as  for  medals  and 
honorary  degrees,  colleges  and  learned  societies  in 
different  countries  showered  them  upon  him  like 
hailstones. 

"What  wilt  thou  have?"  says  Emerson.  "Pay 
for  it  and  take  it."  Peary  had  aimed  at  the  Pole. 
He  had  paid  for  it  well,  for  he  had  given  twenty- 
three  years  of  his  life  to  the  quest;  but  he  had  won. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GOETHALS 

BUILDER  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL 

1858- 
1916,  the  Panama  Canal  opened  to  commerce 

I  WONDER  how  many  children,  when  they  first 
looked  at  the  map  of  the  Western  Hemisphere,  have 
said  to  themselves,  "How  easy  it  would  be  to  cut 
those  two  continents  apart!"  Many  a  man  has 
wished  that  this  had  been  done,  especially  after 
gold  was  discovered  in  California,  and  thousands  of 
" forty-niners"  from  all  over  the  world  set  out  in  a 
mad  search  for  the  treasure.  Those  who  crossed 
Panama  escaped  the  long  voyage  of  nearly  eight 
thousand  nautical  miles  around  South  America;  but 
they  had  to  paddle  up  the  Chagres  River,  ride  on 
muleback  or  in  chairs  carried  by  Negroes  or  Indians 
the  rest  of  the  way,  spend  four  days  in  going  forty 
miles,  and  then  wait  on  the  Pacific  side  until  it 
pleased  some  vessel  to  come  along  and  carry  them  to 
the  land  of  their  dreams.  How  easy  it  would  have 
been  if  only  a  canal  had  been  dug  across  the  Isthmus 
and  they  could  have  sailed  directly  through ! 

In  more  than  one  country  people  began  to  take 
down  their  atlases  and  look  up  Panama;  and  as  the 
years  passed  the  French  did  this  more  than  others 
because  a  Frenchman,  Ferdinand  de  Lesseps,  had 
just  made  a  success  of  digging  a  canal  across  the 
Isthmus  of  Suez.  They  were  very  proud  of  his 


BUILDER  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL    255 

achievements,  and  when  he  proposed  digging  a  sec 
ond  canal,  across  Panama,  they  were  so  sure  of  an 
other  success  that  they  could  hardly  bring  out  their 
savings  fast  enough. 

In  1 88 1  the  canal  was  begun  by  a  company  whose 
head  was  De  Lesseps.  In  so  new  an  undertaking 
mistakes  were  of  course  made.  Digging  a  canal  at 
Panama  was  a  very  different  matter  from  digging 
one  at  Suez,  where  there  were  no  rocks  and  the 
soil  was  only  sand  and  clay.  No  one  knew  that 
mosquitoes  spread  yellow  fever.  Indeed,  in  1881, 
people  thought  little  of  preventing  disease;  it  was 
enough  if  an  attempt  was  made  to  cure  it.  There 
was  utter  recklessness  of  expense,  and  vast  quanti 
ties  of  costly  machinery  were  ordered  that  could 
not  be  used.  Enormous  salaries  were  paid.  De  Les 
seps  was  an  honest  man,  but  unfortunately  the 
chief  interest  of  many  of  his  associates  lay  in  filling 
their  own  pockets.  Then,  too,  every  question  of 
legality  had  to  be  brought  before  the  somewhat  un 
friendly  courts  of  Colombia,  which  was  a  frequent 
cause  of  delay. 

In  spite  of  all  these  drawbacks  the  French  did  a 
great  deal  of  excellent  work,  but  it  cost  enormously. 
In  1887  only  two  fifths  of  the  work  was  done,  and 
far  more  money  had  been  spent  than  the  original 
estimate  for  the  whole  had  called  for.  A  year  later 
the  company  had  to  go  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver. 

In  1904  the  United  States  paid  the  French  $40,- 
000,000  for  their  maps  and  surveys,  for  the  digging 
that  they  had  done,  for  their  stock  in  the  railroad 


256    GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GOETHALS 

that  had  been  built  across  the  Isthmus,  and  for 
their  machinery,  their  buildings,  materials,  passen 
ger  and  freight  cars,  locomotives,  tools,  etc.,  much 
of  it  in  first-rate  order.  Then  work  began.  It  was 
not  quite  the  kind  of  work  that  was  expected,  for 
while  we  were  clamoring  for  the  digging  to  go  on, 
medical  men  under  General  Gorgas  were  doing  some 
thing  far  more  important;  they  were  putting  the 
place  into  such  condition  that  a  man  could  go  there 
and  dig  without  dying  of  yellow  fever  or  malaria. 

When  the  United  States  cleaned  up  Cuba  it  was 
found  out  that  a  certain  kind  of  mosquito  carries  the 
fever  from  sick  persons  to  well  ones;  and  at  Panama 
a  fierce  battle  was  going  on  against  that  mosquito. 
Swamps  in  which  it  bred  were  filled  up  or  petroleum 
was  poured  upon  the  water;  sewers  were  made; 
streets  were  paved  and  kept  clean;  houses  and  cis 
terns  were  screened;  and  just  as  soon  as  possible 
pure  water  was  brought  into  Panama  and  Colon. 
The  mosquito  that  brings  malaria  is  more  difficult 
to  get  rid  of,  but  this  too  was  in  great  degree  de 
stroyed. 

In  1907  it  was  decided  to  put  the  work  of  building 
the  canal  into  the  hands  of  an  army  engineer.  The 
one  chosen  was  George  Washington  Goethals.  He 
had  begun  life  as  an  errand  boy  in  New  York,  had 
succeeded  in  getting  into  West  Point,  had  graduated 
as  second  in  a  class  of  fifty-four,  and  by  this  rank 
had  won  a  place  in  the  Corps  of  Engineers.  Then 
he  was  set  to  work.  He  developed  irrigation  ditches 
in  the  West;  he  constructed  bridges;  he  built  dikes 


BUILDER  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL    257 

to  keep  the  Ohio  River  from  mischief  in  time  of 
flood ;  he  built  locks  and  dams  on  the  Tennessee 
River,  and  coast  fortifications  at  Narragansett  Bay; 
he  taught  military  engineering  at  West  Point.  He 
was  deeply  interested  in  every  phase  of  this  service, 
but  he  did  sometimes  regret  that  he  was  never  al 
lowed  to  complete  any  piece  of  work.  Just  as  soon 
as  it  was  in  such  condition  that  some  one  else  could 
manage  it,  Goethals  was  sent  off  to  another  job. 
This  was  complimentary,  but  it  is  no  wonder  that  he 
sometimes  tried  to  fancy  how  it  would  seem  to  finish 
anything. 

He  had  a  job  now  that  he  was  not  only  allowed, 
but  commanded,  to  finish.  He  went  to  Panama, 
but  he  was  not  at  all  welcome.  The  men  invited 
him  to  a  smoker,  but  even  there  it  wras  made  plain  to 
him  that  they  did  not  wish  to  be  under  army  rule. 
"  If  you  see  the  men  suddenly  dropping  their  work," 
said  the  toastmaster,  "standing  erect  with  heels 
together  and  little  fingers  at  the  seams  of  their 
trousers,  don't  infer  that  they  are  crazy;  they  are 
only  practicing  the  military  salute."  Then  Colonel 
Goethals  made  a  speech.  "The  army  is  not  in 
charge  of  this  business,"  he  said,  "and  there  is  to  be 
no  saluting,  no  militarism.  My  only  command  is  the 
Army  of  Panama.  We  are  fighting  Nature  to  dig  a 
canal;  and  when  the  canal  is  done  that  will  be  our 
victory." 

The  work  went  on.  Machine  drills,  rumbles  and 
roars  like  thunder-storms  and  earthquakes,  explo 
sions,  half  a  mountain  flung  one  side,  hailstones 


258     GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GOETHALS 

of  rock,  showers  of  mud,  dirt  trains,  steam  shovels, 
men  running  to  escape  rocks  from  a  blast,  hurly- 
burly  and  confusion  everywhere  —  this  was  what  a 
first  sight  of  Panama  revealed.  And  then,  as  you 
looked  longer,  you  saw  that  there  was  nothing  but 
the  most  perfect  order,  everything  in  its  place,  every 
man  knowing  his  work  and  doing  it,  and  every  act 
part  of  the  great  warfare  of  the  Army  of  Panama  in 
its  struggle  with  Nature.  Here  and  there  the  flash 
of  a  yellow  car  was  seen.  This  belonged  to  the  com 
mander  of  the  Army.  The  men  called  it  the  "Yel 
low  Peril,"  and  perilous  its  coming  often  was  if  a 
man  was  failing  in  his  work.  "The  Colonel  sleeps 
from  ten  to  five,"  said  one  of  the  men;  "the  rest  of 
the  time  he  is  working." 

It  was  soon  clear  that  Goethals's  orders  meant 
something.  He  was  friendly  with  the  men,  and 
there  was  no  "saluting,"  but  when  he  gave  an  order 
it  had  to  be  obeyed,  and  no  excuses  would  be  ac 
cepted.  He  once  sent  to  an  official  some  unwelcome 
instructions,  and  the  official  began  a  complaint  with, 
" I  got  that  letter  of  yours,  Colonel-  "  " I  beg  your 
pardon,"  said  the  Colonel  pleasantly,  "but  you 
mean  that  you  received  my  orders.  As  you  have 
the  orders  that  matter  is  settled.  Was  there  any 
thing  else  you  wished  to  talk  about?"  There  was 
not. 

Besides  engineering  the  digging  of  the  mammoth 
canal  Goethals  had  65,000  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren  under  his  government,  and  part  of  his  work 
was  to  see  that  they  were  treated  justly  and  were 


BUILDER  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL    259 

made  contented  and  happy.  He  told  the  men  in  his 
first  speech  at  the  smoker  that  if  they  wished  to  com 
plain  of  anything  or  to  make  any  suggestions,  they 
were  free  to  come  to  him  at  any  time  or  to  detain 
him  as  he  went  about  the  works.  This  was  the  be 
ginning  of  his  " Sunday  court." 

To  this"  "court"  came  people  of  many  national 
ities  and  with  all  sorts  of  grievances.  Sometimes 
grave  questions  were  presented,  such  as  discord 
between  husband  and  wife.  In  the  United  States 
these  cases  would  often  have  been  dragged  through  a 
divorce  court,  but  on  the  Isthmus  they  were  almost 
invariably  settled  in  accordance  with  the  advice  of 
the  commander-in-chief.  Many  of  the  questions 
were  less  important.  One  man  thought  he  ought  to 
have  more  pay.  Another,  who  was  on  night  work, 
complained  that  the  noise  made  by  his  neighbor's 
visitors  prevented  him  from  sleeping  by  day.  The 
greatest  trouble,  Goethals  declared,  came  from  the 
housing  question,  for  some  houses  were  larger  than 
others.  After  a  while  it  was  decided  to  assign  quar 
ters  strictly  according  to  the  salaries  paid.  But 
furniture  was  also  provided  by  the  Government,  and 
if  one  woman  found  that  there  was  an  extra  rocking- 
chair  in  the  house  of  a  man  with  the  same  salary  as 
her  husband,  then  there  was  trouble.  If  a  neigh 
bor's  children  were  annoying  or  a  debt  could  not  be 
collected,  there  was  trouble.  If  the  meat  furnished 
to  one  house  was  tender  and  that  furnished  to  an 
other  house  was  tough,  there  was  trouble.  Most 
engineers  with  the  Panama  Canal  on  their  hands 


2<5o    GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GOETHALS 

would  have  thought  such  matters  too  petty  to  be 
given  the  least  attention ;  but  Colonel  Goethals  was 
big  enough  to  understand  how  things  seemed  to 
other  people.  He  knew  that  these  annoyances, 
small  as  they  might  appear  to  others,  were  really  of 
importance  to  the  daily  comfort  of  those  who  com 
plained,  and  he  knew  that  people  who  were  not 
comfortable  would  not  remain  on  the  Isthmus.  It 
is  no  wonder  that  the  men  used  to  sing  a  little  song 
whose  chorus  was : 

"See  Colonel  Goethals,  tell  Colonel  Goethals, 
It's  the  only  right  and  proper  thing  to  do. 
Just  write  a  letter,  or  even  better, 
Arrange  a  little  Sunday  interview." 

President  Roosevelt  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
canal.  He  knew  that  65,000  men,  many  of  them 
away  from  their  families,  were  in  absolute  need  of 
good  clean  amusements;  therefore  he  had  club 
houses  built  and  put  into  the  charge  of  the  Y.M.C.A. 
Here  were  libraries,  pianos,  reading-rooms,  and 
games.  The  women  had  clubs  of  their  own,  but 
they  were  also  admitted  to  these,  and  at  certain 
hours  children  had  the  use  of  the  rooms.  Even  the 
"movies"  came  to  Panama.  Out-of-door  games 
were  encouraged.  Tennis,  baseball,  and  basket 
ball  flourished,  and  there  was  as  keen  rivalry  be 
tween  clubs  in  Panama  as  between  colleges  in  the 
United  States. 

Colonel  Goethals  carried  this  same  friendly  rivalry 
into  the  digging.  He  divided  the  canal  into  three 
parts,  Atlantic,  Central,  and  Pacific.  Then  began 


Courtesy  Isthmian  Canal  Commission 

THE  OPENING  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL,  AUGUST  15,  1914 

Upper:  Steamship  "  Ancon "  in  the  West  Chamber,  Gatun  Middle  Locks.  Lower: 
Steamship  "  Ancon  "  on  Gatun  Lake.  These  two  pictures  give  a  little  idea  of  the 
trolley  system  used  in  towing  vessels  through  the  locks  and  the  narrower  parts  of 
the  Canal.  Ships  proceed  under  their  own  power  only  where  they  have  ample 
sea-room. 


262    GEORGE  WASHINGTON  GOETHALS 

most  zealous  team-work,  for  each  division  -wanted 
the  best  record.  This  engineer  certainly  under 
stood  how  to  manage  men.  He  realized  that  no 
man  could  be  expected  to  feel  much  enthusiasm 
about  the  work  when  he  knew  nothing  of  it  except 
the  special  part  in  which  he  himself  was  engaged ;  so 
a  weekly  paper  was  published.  Then  the  men  knew 
what  was  going  on.  They  knew  which  steam  shovel 
and  which  dredge  was  doing  the  best  work,  and  they 
began  to  feel  a  professional  pride  in  "our  dredge," 
and  "  our  concrete  mixer."  Then,  too,  they  and  our 
whole  country  had  a  chance  to  know  week  by  week 
just  what  the  canal  was  costing.  We  could  see 
what  the  millions  spent  at  Panama  were  doing.  We 
could  see  that  nothing  was  being  hidden  from 
us;  and  like  the  workmen,  we  began  to  feel  more 
strongly  than  ever  that  it  was  "our"  undertaking. 

There  was  no  graft,  because  Goethals  would  per 
mit  none.  Of  course  it  was  tried  more  than  once. 
Materials  not  quite  up  to  the  contract  were  some 
times  sent,  the  guilty  firm  supposing  that  "the 
Government  would  never  find  it  out."  Unluckily 
for  their  pockets  the  man  who  represented  the  Gov 
ernment  did  find  it  out,  and  he  refused  to  accept 
anything  not  of  the  best  quality.  Food  had  to  be 
brought  from  the  United  States,  and  once,  when 
some  arrived  that  was  not  entirely  above  suspicion, 
Goethals  promptly  sent  the  whole  cargo  back.  In 
deed,  the  building  of  the  canal  was  "the  biggest, 
cleanest  job  the  world  has  ever  seen." 

Early  in  1914  the  Isthmian  Canal  Commission 


BUILDER  OF  THE  PANAMA  CANAL    263 

came  to  an  end,  and  Colonel  Goethals  was  appointed 
"Governor  of  the  Panama  Canal."  Six  months 
later  the  first  ocean-going  ship  went  through  the 
canal.  The  Colonel  was  not  on  board  entertaining 
the  invited  guests,  but  "on  the  job,"  for  he  was  in 
the  "Yellow  Peril"  on  shore,  keeping  close  watch  of 
the  vessel's  progress.  Early  in  1915  he  was  made 
major-general. 

Long  before  this  Goethals  had  given  warning  that 
earth  slides  were  to  be  expected,  and  would  occur 
until  the  soil  had  had  time  to  settle  into  a  perma 
nent  position.  Toward  the  end  of  1915  there  were 
two  slides,  from  hills  which  stood  opposite  each 
other,  with  only  the  canal  between.  The  channel 
was  filled  up,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
keep  the  dredges  at  work  and  delay  the  opening  of 
the  canal  to  commerce  until  April,  1916. 

General  Goethals  took  no  credit  to  himself  for  his 
admirable  work.  He  was  a  soldier,  he  had  been 
ordered  to  build  the  canal,  and  he  had  obeyed;  that 
was  all.  He  had  been  commander-in-chief,  he  ad 
mitted,  but  every  man  who  worked  on  the  canal  had 
shared  in  the  labor  and  the  glory.  One  of  the  finest 
traits  of  his  character  is  this  readiness  to  give  credit 
to  others  and  not  try  to  keep  it  all  for  himself,  and 
when  the  National  Geographic  Society  gave  him  a 
medal,  he  said,  "I  accept  it  in  the  name  of  every 
member  of  the  canal  army." 


Books  on  Patriotic  Subjects 

I  AM  AN  AMERICAN 

By  SARA  CONE  BRYANT  (Mrs.  Theodore  P.  Borst), 

"  Americanism,"  says  Mrs.  Borst,  "  needs  to  be  taught  as  definitely 
as  do  geography  and  arithmetic.  The  grade  teachers  are  doing 
splendid  work  for  patriotism,  with  songs  and  recitations,  story 
telling,  and  talks  on  civic  virtues.  I  have  tried  to  give  them  some 
thing  more  definite  and  coordinated,  something  that  will  serve  as  a 
real  textbook  on  ;  Being  an  American.' " 

STORIES  OF  PATRIOTISM. 

Edited  by  NORMA  H.  DEMING,  and  KATHARINE  I.  BEMIS. 

A  series  of  stirring  tales  of  patriotic  deeds  by  Americans  from  the 
time  of  the  colonists  to  the  present.  There  are  also  stories  about 
famous  heroes  of  our  Allies  in  the  Great  War. 

THE  PATRIOTIC  READER. 

Edited  by  KATHARINE  I.  BEMIS,  MATHILDE  E.  HOLTZ,  and  HEN** 

L.  SMITH. 

The  selections  cover  the  history  of  our  country  from  Colonial 
times.  A  distinguishing  feature  is  the  freshness  of  material  and  the 
admirable  arrangement.  The  book  gives  one  a  familiarity  with 
literature  that  presents  the  highest  ideals  of  freedom,  justice,  and 
liberty. 

THE  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  THE  FLAG. 

By  EVA  MARCH  TAPPAN. 

In  her  own  entertaining  style,  Miss  Tappan  has  written  the  stony 
of  Our  Flag.  She  tells  children  how  to  behave  toward  the  flag,  in& 
fashion  that  makes  such  behavior  a  sacred  duty.  There  are  seleo» 
tions  for  Reading  and  Memorizing. 

A  COURSE  IN  CITIZENSHIP  AND  PATRIOTISM. 

Edited  by  E.  L.  CABOT,  F.  F.  ANDREWS,  F.  E.  COB,  M.  HILL,  and  ft, 

MCSKIMMON. 

Good  citizenship  grows  out  of  love  of  country  and  in  turn  pro 
motes  the  spirit  of  internationalism.  This  book  teaches  how  to  de 
velop  these  qualities  most  effectually. 

AMERICANIZATION  AND  CITIZENSHIP. 

By  HANSON  HART  WEBSTER. 

"  Well  calculated  to  inculcate  love  for  America,  especially  among 
the  foreign  born.  This  is  to  be  desired  at  this  time  more  than  evetf 
before."  —  His  Eminence,  James  Cardinal  Gibbons. 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

1932 


THE  INDUSTRIAL  READERS 

By  EVA  MARCH  TAPPAN 

The  Farmer  and  his  Friends 
Diggers  in  the  Earth 
Makers  of  Many  Things 
Travelers  and  Traveling 

These  books  meet  the  general  school  demand  for  reading 
#hich  gives  the  child  an  elementary  knowledge  of  the  origin 
of  common  things. 

The  Industrial  Readers  show  the  basic  value  of  farming 
and  mining,  the  ways  in  which  the  products  of  the  earth  are 
made  usable,  and  the  importance  of  means  of  transportation. 
Through  this  discussion  of  "everyday"  labor  the  pupil 
comes  to  see  the  interdependence  and  value  of  all  forms  of 
the  world's  work,  and  gains  valuable  knowledge  that  no  other 
•jet  of  readers  on  the  market  can  supply  —  an  understanding 
of  the  economic  and  industrial  background  of  his  life. 

HOW  TO  MAKE  THE 
GARDEN  PAY 

A  Manual  for  the  Intensive  Cultivation  of  Small 
Vegetable  Gardens 

By  EDWARD  MORRISON  AND 
CHARLES  THOMAS  BRUES 

This  book  is  written  in  simple,  clear  English  that  children 
to  the  grammar  grades  may  read  easily.  The  authors  have  had 
long  experience  with  intensive  home  gardening  and  here  pre 
sent  the  essential  information  that  will  enable  those  unfamiliar 
with  gardening  to  plan  for  a  garden  that  will  utilize  the  avail 
able  space  to  the  greatest  possible  advantage,  to  raise  vegeta 
bles  that  will  prove  most  serviceable  for  home  use,  and  to 
make  the  garden  increasingly  valuable,  year  after  year. 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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